


Breakout

by BadJuJuJibberish



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Betrayal, Crushes, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Experimentation, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Triangles, On the Run, Other, Personal Growth, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Smoking, Swearing, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-01-31 15:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 149,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12685041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadJuJuJibberish/pseuds/BadJuJuJibberish
Summary: Junkrat and Roadhog have found a nice little place for themselves within Talon's secret headquarters, but everything changes when they're slapped with a partner straight from Vishkar. Satya Vaswani doesn't seem like the sort of person who'd work for the illicit organization, but she's repeatedly assured that she is bringing order to a world that sorely needs it. When she realizes she's being deceived, Junkrat and Roadhog decide it's time to get her out of there.





	1. Ch 1

For the first time in a long time, Junkrat was feeling pretty good about life. It was a rarity for the Junker. He and Roadhog had been on the run for a while, following a series of rather impressive heists. They'd stuck to their initial plan of collecting loot and getting back to Junkertown, but the second portion of their plot didn't exactly go as intended. The Queen could smell a double-cross from a mile away, and the pair had never made it past the front gates.

With their grand deception in shambles, they'd scurried back out of their homeland with their tails between their legs. There was just one problem, though. What were they supposed to DO after failing their mission? Junkrat had suggested they reattempt their pet-project of once again getting back into Junkertown, but Roadhog had silently protested. Instead, they tried giving legit work a shock, but that also didn't go so well either.

Touring around the globe did have its perks, though. They met quite a few characters along the way and made something close to friends, too. While they were still on the run (courtesy of a massive bounty), they lucked out when they once again came across a pal of theirs. The hacker who'd hired them for the Dorado job had been looking for them. It turned out she'd been "networking", and she thought the Junkers would be perfectly suited at her new workplace.

A job! They had real honest to goodness actual jobs! Well... it wasn't exactly legitimate work, but it was steady pay from people who understood their line of expertise. They were hired on by some group called Talon as mercenaries, and there was a lot about the group that they liked. Both Junkers got their own private bedrooms in the massive hidden base. There was food, and places to shower, and spots to keep their stuff safe and hidden, and they even got to keep their motorcycle and trailer in the hangar.

Junkrat's favorite part of the whole deal was the workroom. He was given his own "laboratory" where he could cook up all sorts of beautiful explosive concoctions and ingenious traps. It was fantastic! Life couldn't get any better! They got paid to steal and blow stuff up, and really, what could they ever want beyond that?

"Dinner time, Toasty,". Sombra appeared right in front of him (as she want to do), and tweaked his nose. The pile of empty grenade shells in his arms were quickly tossed into the air.

"Fucking Christ! Don't do that to me!" he snapped. Sombra let out a laugh that borderlined sinister and stood there with arms crossed as she watched him pick everything up. He dumped the contents into a beat-up cardboard box marked "No boom", and slid the whole thing over next to the other box marked "Yes boom".

"Your storage system's kinda' scary, you know?" she remarked and rolled a stray shell towards him with her toes. Junkrat bent back down to scoop up the last stray and tossed it over his shoulder into whichever box it chose to land in.

"Been workin' just fine f'me," he replied with a shrug.

"Hog already down there?" he added when she apparently didn't have anything else to say.

"Probably. It's Tuesday," she reminded.

"It is?" Junkrat shot while scratching his head. A few blonde hairs got caught up in the metal joints of his fingers and ripped out when he pulled his hand away. He looked down at them, annoyed. _Aw, c'mon! Not like I got a lot t'spare!_

"Yes, it is, so we better hurry if we want any chance at those dumplings before your friend inhales them," Sombra confirmed.

Talon's headquarters was a very surprising sort of place. Surprising in how advanced and well-funded the whole facility was. Being the "bad guys" was rather lucrative, and there was no shortage of investors. That's what Sombra had told him, anyway. He didn't give two figs about investors and front operations, or anything like that. So long as he got to build, destroy, and sleep (relatively) soundly at night, he was a happy camper.

"Oi! You dick! Was that all of 'em?!" he hollered at Roadhog as they cut in the queue to meet up with him. Hog had simply reached over the sneeze-guard and grabbed the entire chafing dish of the tasty little morsels. He looked over his shoulder at the pair that stood behind him, and the collection of annoyed faces that stood even further away. Roadhog nodded.

"At least let me have one! They're prawn-filled! I love prawns!" Junkrat snapped and held a plate out in front of his bodyguard.

"So?" Hog huffed and lumbered over towards a vacant table. He sat down and took the metal lid off, revealing dozens of the steamed delicacies. Junkrat always hated bots, but the mindless machines they had running the kitchens were capable of creating some of the tastiest food he'd ever managed to get ahold of.

"I said gimme!" he ordered and tried to reach over Roadhog's massive arm to take one.  Hog hunched over the dish to protect his prize, and forcefully shoved Junkrat back. The lanky Junker tumbled right off his chair and spilled onto the floor.

"So it's like that, then, is it mate?! Hm?! Gonna' throw yer own boss out inta' th'cold?! Leave 'im high an' dry?!" Junkrat growled.

"Yup,". Roadhog lifted the black leather mask, exposing his mouth. He grabbed several dumplings and proceeded to pop them into his mouth one by one. By that point, a large portion of the various Talon soldiers in the mess hall were all gaping at the scene, and Junkrat scowled at them.

"Y'done starin' there?!" he hollered at them. Most went back to their food and conversations. The Junkers' antics had become less entertaining the longer they'd been there.

"Damn, these are good," Sombra mumbled as she munched away at one that she'd managed to pilfer from Hog's dish while he was distracted. Hog sneered at her, and the heavy rumble in his chest sounded pretty menacing.

"P'sh. Don't even try that shit on me, Chicharron. I know all about a certain collection that a certain bodyguard-,". Hog quickly tossed three more of the damn things onto her empty plate. She reached over and patted his arm.

"Glad we could reach an agreement," she grinned. Junkrat finally got off the floor and went back in line to fill his plate with whatever was left. He had cut in the line again, which was pretty par for the course. Few people ever tried to challenge him or his partner when they did that, mostly due to their rather imposing stature and unhinged appearances. Life in the Outback did that to a man. It turned them into something that could never quite fit in with the average crowd.

Dinner continued on as all their meals did. Junkrat jabbered on about some such ideas he had going on, but would occasionally retell the same stories that he had only a week prior (because he often forgot he’d even told them in the first place).

It wasn’t unheard of for the “bosses” to come rolling through. Their employers were a bit of a spooky bunch. First came the guy with the skull mask. He told everyone to call him Reaper, and Junkrat sometimes wondered if that was what he actually was. The guy could walk on two legs, or float in a cloud of mist, and boy did it ever scare the shit out of him the first time he saw him do it! Following him was the blue woman. Well, her skin wasn’t always blue, but sometimes it’d discolor when they were out on a mission. He wasn’t exactly sure how or why, but rumor had it she was absolutely lethal with a sniper rifle in her hands. She had a whole spider-thing going on, so the name Widowmaker made sense for her. She reminded Junkrat of some of the heroes and villains in his stack of comic books he had squirreled away in the trailer.

Doomfist was impossible to miss. The man was nearly as tall as Roadhog and capable enough in a fight even without the massive metal gauntlet he lugged around. And then came... the doctor. Moira was definitely the creepiest of the bunch. He couldn’t quite place what it was about her. It was something in her eyes and her choice of words that got under his skin. She looked at everyone with intrigue, and she gave him the sense that she was dissecting everyone with her eyes. On that particular day, the four were not alone. A man trailed them, unsure of where to go.

“Yes, of course. She really is the best candidate for the job. Vaswani’s just a little... difficult to work with. She needs things to be explained just so. I don’t think she’ll be able to come to terms with working with Talon just yet. It will take time,”. The face was an unfamiliar one to Junkrat. He had on a crisp clean suit. His hair was parted perfectly, his arms were folded behind his back, and his shoes clicked loudly against the tile as he walked behind him.

“We need loyalty, Korpal, and time is in short supply. If this becomes an issue...” Doomfist replied.

“I assure you, it won't. I’ll call her now. I can always sway her,” the newcomer assured. By that point, they’d passed right through, and their conversation was lost the moment they rounded the corner out of site.

“I hate that Vishkar creep,” Sombra grimaced and sipped on her cola.

“The Suit? Looks like he’s got a rod up his ass,” Junkrat snorted. Suits were all the same; fancy-dressed yes-men with an undeserved air of superiority.

“Him? Oh, I’ve been following him. He’s got a lot of interesting friends. Got a lot of interesting tools at his disposal, too... I’m gonna’ go take a peek at what’s going on,” Sombra explained and stood up from the table. She just couldn’t resist gossip, and she vanished in a blip of purple.

“Suit-talk. Bleh. Sounds borin’ as fuck,” Junkrat muttered.

“Suits run th’world, mate,” Roadhog noted. Rat stared at his friend, confused by his comments.

“Wot?” he asked for clarification. Hog let out a deep rumbling sigh.

“Suits. They run th’world. So, don’t y’think what they gotta’ say might be important?” his friend elaborated. Junkrat paused in thought. There were only two things in the world he truly hated; Omnics, and Suits. One demographic was easier to avoid than the other. Suits were fucking everywhere, and could be anyone.

“S’pose so,” Junkrat conceded and hid behind his mug of tea.

Junkrat went back to his room shortly after dinner. It was fantastic having a place of his own again. Hog may have been quiet, but living in a trailer during the Get-Back-At-The-Queen operation meant zero privacy. In his own space, he could do what he liked. On that particular night, he liked staring at the ceiling and losing himself in thought.

Yep. Life was good. He had everything he’d always longed for back in Junkertown... So why was he still having nightmares? He hadn’t had any once they left Australia. Maybe a little one here or there, but they all started right back up nearly every night as soon as they accepted the gig with Talon. He’d debated whether or not to see the doctor about it, but he’d always hesitated. What could be done about nightmares? It wasn’t like there was a pill or something that would make them stop, was there? And then, of course, that would require talking to... Moira. _She’d probably use it as an excuse t’open up my head an’ take out my brain!_

There wasn’t an easy answer, so he did the only thing he could think of. He once again shoved all of his worries and concerns to the back of his head to sort out later. He yawned, feeling tired beyond belief. What was the point in staying up late? Hog had turned in a while ago. There really wasn’t anyone he wanted to talk to that was still awake, and he’d learned the hard way that no one particularly liked his spontaneous fireworks displays. At least, not in the middle of the night. He closed his eyes and drifted right off.

There was screaming in his nightmare, and he shot up from his pillow drenched in sweat. His heart was jackhammering in his chest. _F-f-fuck! Can’t take this no more!_ He didn’t even remember what the nightmare had been about. All he knew was there was a distinctive raspy roar. Maybe it had been about Hog? His attention broke when he heard the howl again, and he looked towards the air vent at the foot of his bed.

Sombra had told him his room was overtop of the underground medical wing; Moira’s personal lab. Every so often, he’d wake to hear sounds drifting up the ductwork, and he hated it. It was terrifying, and he wondered what sort of shit was going on down there. The pained sounds coming out of the horizontal slits sounded familiar. _That’s... Reaper?! Gotta’ be._

“Stop... need you to sit still... Nearly over,”. It was Moira’s voice. Despite the muffling, he could tell. Reaper grunted a pained apology, and silence once again filled Junkrat’s room _. Fuckin’ shit, mate!_ When the adrenaline spike burnt out, he eventually nodded back off, and it only felt like mere minutes before Roadhog was pounding on his door.

“Breakfast...” Junkrat mumbled to himself. He’d be damned if he’d miss out on all of the burnt pieces of bacon again! They once again cut in line and sat in their usual spot. Sombra zipped over to join them.

“Got some interesting news. Well, I dug a little to find it out. Wasn’t that hard, really, but let’s just say you two are getting a partner... maybe,” the hacker hinted while flashing a grin.

“Wot?!” Rat snapped. Hog’s mask whipped up from his plate.

“Well... nothing’s final yet. Still gotta’ convince her-,”.

“Her?” Junkrat interrupted. Sombra’s nose scrunched up with a broader smile.

“Yeah. Remember the Vishkar creep? He’s sending his top lady over for a few missions. If she likes it, she’ll be staying. Going to have to make room in that lab of yours, Toasty,” Sombra chided. Junkrat frowned. He liked having his space to work. He liked having no one bother him while he was “in the zone”, but also the ability to go find someone to annoy when he grew bored. And sharing it with a Suit?! He already hated her, and the way she was upsetting things!

“Who’s brilliant idea was this, hm?! Creepy Reapy or Mister Fister?!”.

“Okay, you’re really going to have to stop calling them that if you don’t want to be ground into a paste,” Sombra warned. He looked over at his bodyguard, who was busy popping a chocolate chip muffin in his mouth.

“Well mate, whatcha’ think ‘bout all this?! Gonna’ have some stuffy witch in a suit come taggin’ along with us!” Rat said, clearly annoyed. Roadhog just shrugged and downed a mug of tea in a single gulp.

“I thought you would have liked another friend,” Sombra retorted, surprised.

“Can’t be friends with Suits. Might as well stick us with a bot,” he grumbled. Sombra turned her attention to her toast and spread a layer of strawberry jam on top.

“Well, try and act surprised, but neutral when you go in for your briefing this afternoon. Oh yeah! By the way, I was asked to tell you that you’ve got a briefing this afternoon,”.

 

**.               .               .              .                .**

 

“They didn’t even give us any say in it! Just “there ya go! You got a partner! Gonna’ need half yer space!”. This workin’ for a livin’ shit is for the birds sometimes, y’know?” Junkrat grumbled. He and Hog had walked into the briefing room and took a seat. It was them, Reaper, Widowmaker, and the Suit from the day before. He and Hog were going to go on a mission in a few days, where they’d finally be able to meet the new face just before take-off. While they provided a helpful distraction, the mystery woman would slip in and do a little spy work. Easy enough. The Junkers had done the exact same thing in Dorado. Still, that was with Sombra, and he liked the hacker. He liked her sassiness and sarcasm, and she was pretty damn fun to be around. She was cool enough to consider an actual friend.

Despite the ease of the mission, he stewed in anger. _Not a Suit! Not a Suit!_ If shit went tits-up, a Suit wouldn’t come bail them out. She had her orders. Suits only looked out for themselves. They couldn’t risk being associated with criminals like them. To Suites, the Junkers would be expendable. There may have been no honor amongst thieves, but there was no mercy amongst the likes of her.

“That’s if she stays,” Roadhog reminded. Junkrat opened the door to his dorm room and tossed the folder unceremoniously onto his bed. They’d given him and Hog an official dossier of their new teammate. He didn’t even bother to open it. Why would he want to read about the person sent to ruin the only good thing that had ever happened in his life? Besides. He’d study the mission plans later. He had an entire week, after all.

The week came and went in a flash, and true to his nature he hadn’t so much as cracked into the introductory page of the file. Hog tried filling him in during their spare hours, but Junkrat put his foot down. He didn’t want to be bothered with learning useless battle strategies. He had plenty of his own. That’s what they hired him for, right? Besides, opening the file meant he’d have to see... her, and he’d rather enjoy his days stress-free.

They’d be leaving in several hours, and he needed to pack everything up in their special padded cases. It would be lots of tedious work, and he was frowning enough as it was. He clicked the switch to his laboratory. The doors hissed open, and something was wrong. Very wrong. The room was utterly spotless, and that definitely wasn’t how he’d left it the night before. His grenades were no longer separated into their two boxes. His tools had been polished and hung up on a new pegboard. The whole place looked like it had the day he’d first walked in. Utterly perplexed, he stared slack-jawed at the culprit, standing with her back towards him.

“Much better,” she hummed to herself as she closed and secured the lid to another metal crate. She spun around and gave a little gasp of surprise, evidently not hearing him as he’d entered. She was curvy and stood arrow-straight. Her ink black hair was pulled up into a tidy bun, and a soft lock hung down to frame her face. Gold eyes stared out from underneath long black lashes. Her stern and aloof face locked onto his.

“Apologies. I didn’t hear you come in,” she started, and held out her hand, “I am Satya Vaswani,”. Junkrat continued to gape dumb-founded. _Aw fuck! Aw, fuck me! No one told me she was gonna’ be gorgeous!_


	2. Ch 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat, Roadhog, and Sombra are all out on their first mission with Symmetra. Getting to know the new girl proves difficult. Later, an action-packed turn of events leads to a daring rescue.

Junkrat shamelessly gawked at the woman before him, completely ignoring her outstretched hand. Her eyes narrowed at his lack of interaction and flicked downward as a hint. Thankfully, he regained some of his cognitive faculties.

“Roight! Roight. Junkrat! Er, ah... Not much of a shaker,” he fibbed and held his hand up in display. He didn't think the rusty metal of his hand-built arm would make for a pleasant greeting with someone like her.

“Apologies. I’d forgotten which arm was prosthetic. I only went through your dossier on the flight here,” she said and lowered her hand with an almost relieved look in her eyes.

“Dossier?”. It hadn’t occurred to him that she would have read up on him in advance, and he instantly regretted not taking two seconds to skim through the folder he’d shoved underneath the stack of books in his room. 

“Yes... I’m going to assume from your response that you have not read the information provided,”. It was a flat statement of observation, and beneath the layer of soot that crested his nose and cheeks Junkrat blushed. He felt so damn stupid and lazy, and while that normally wouldn’t have bothered him, having her scrutinizing his every action dug itself under his skin. Satya looked around the laboratory.

“I have taken the liberty of packing the supplies required on your end, though it did take some time collecting them all. You should implement a better system for organization, as well as safe storage. I cannot safely work with explosives rolling around the floor,” she continued. At this, he felt a little peeved. Cute-looking or no, he wasn’t keen on what she had to say.

“Security measure,” Junkrat grunted.

“Security measure?”.

“Yeah. Keep it this way so people who ain’t s’pose t’be here can’t find nothin’.” Junkrat explained, leaving a not so subtle hint.

“An ineffective strategy. Those determined enough can find anything they set their mind to,” Satya murmured as she turned away from him. Junkrat’s face scrunched up in annoyance. _Suits are all th’same._ He walked around the workroom to reacquaint himself with HIS space. Much to his chagrin, everything had been tucked away in drawers and cabinets that were all clearly labeled. One corner had labels in lettering he couldn’t read, and judging from her accent it was most likely in her native language. 

“Already made yourself at home, then?” he asked.

“I suppose so,” she replied, completely ignoring or missing his sarcasm, “Though, as to whether or not I am staying still remains to be seen,”. At least there was the chance of her changing her mind. He secretly hoped his antics would scare her off.

“I did not come across any form of computer or tablet. Do you keep that elsewhere?”. Junkrat scratched his head at that.

“No. Don’t got one. Never needed one,” he admitted, and there was no mistaking the surprised look in her eyes. 

“I was told you’re quite the engineer. How do you design and calculate without one?”. Quite the engineer? _Was that a compliment?_ His ego needed a boost if it was to survive the awkward meeting, so he took what he could get.

“I work it all out the old-fashioned way,” he replied, and found the drawer labeled “notebooks”. He pulled it open and found the beat-up composition books all tucked inside. He selected the red one and held it up for her to see.

“Fascinating, though inefficient. A computer would allow you to calculate more quickly and with a considerably smaller margin for error,” she noted and tilted her head as she looked him over. She shook her head as though ridding herself of the uncomfortableness as well.

“Enough of our pleasantries, Mr. Fawkes. I think it-,”.

“Junkrat,” he corrected.

“I see. You are set on referencing each other by our codenames, then?”. Junkrat couldn’t quite place it, but everything she said and did made him feel slightly unsettled. She looked at him, but never quite caught his eyes beyond their initial introduction. In spite of that, her gaze seemed to penetrate right through him.

“Er, um. It ain’t that. Just, no one calls me Mr. Fawkes unless they’re haulin’ my ass in fer questionin’, y’know? Junkrat’s more... suitin’, right?” he tried to explain, and then regretted it immediately. Why remind a Suit that he was a wanted felon?

“Very well. If that makes you feel more comfortable, then you may call me Symmetra, but I digress. We are running behind schedule. We need to load up. This mission requires precise timing,” she reminded and turned on her heel towards the stack of reinforced crates waiting towards the back corner. She lifted up a bulky-looking suitcase. He thumped over, and (in an attempt to be somewhat gentlemanly) tried taking it from her grasp. She immediately pulled away from him with a bit of a start.

"This case contains Vishkar property. I am afraid only I have the authorization to handle this one,". 

"Was just tryin' t'help y-,".

"It is appreciated but unnecessary," she cut in. Junkrat's thick eyebrows knit together. Everything about her was so... professional, stiff, and formal; in short, everything he wasn't.

"Not like I haven't handled dangerous stuff b'fore," he muttered under his breath. She didn't seem to hear him and stepped aside so he could grab the steel handles of his own supplies.

Walking behind her at least offered a pleasing view. Her steps held an elegant sway that he'd never be able to replicate. The high collar of her white jacket only emphasized her long neck and was tailored almost too perfectly. That narrow waist, those wide hips, and the way her skirt seemed to perfectly hug her... _Fuckin' Christ, I'm a wreck._ He tried not to focus on her physical appearance. She was a workmate and a snooty one on top of that. At least, that was what he gathered upon their strained introduction. He wondered what Hog would think of the "new girl". Hog would surely scare her off, and then she'd be packing up and leaving just as quickly as she'd arrived.

The ship they would be leaving in was a small and discrete one. Sombra had modified it herself with top-notch cloaking capabilities. Supposedly, the thing was untraceable. As they approached the carrier, Roadhog took notice of them. The colossal man lumbered up to Junkrat and took the entire case with one hand. Symmetra came to a stop before him, shifted her own case to the other side, and held her hand out in a stiff introduction.

“Satya Vaswani, or Symmetra, if you prefer,” she greeted. Roadhog looked down at her outstretched palm and gently took it between his massive thumb and forefinger. 

“Roadhog,” he grunted, and went back to what he was doing. She let out a small breath of relief and continued back on her path.

“Lady, don’t you ever sleep?” Sombra called from the other side of the hangar.

“Pardon?”. Junkrat observed the exchange between the two women.

“You got here in the middle of the night!” Sombra noted. Symmetra shrugged.

“I will sleep when time allows. It will be a seven-hour flight if your trajectory is correct. I will rest then,” she replied. It was a familiar sensation to Junkrat. Many nights had been spent with him and Hog taking turns driving as fast and as far as they could in hopes of ditching police. Sleep was merely a luxury for the Junkers.

“She was too busy buildin’ a new lab for me. Ain’t that right, Sym?” Junkrat joked, hoping to ease the tension they’d started off with.

“Symmetra,” she corrected, “and my improvements were necessary,”. _So much fer that._ Still, she’d stayed awake when she could have been sleeping. She could have just spent the time relaxing in her room. Instead, she’d worked her ass off to try and organize his personal disaster zone, and frankly, he didn’t know how she did it. It was impressive in its own way. 

It didn’t take long for the ship to be properly loaded. The mission team climbed aboard, and the new face sat towards the rear of Sombra’s small vessel. Hog sat on the floor with his back propped against the cabin wall and had nodded off almost immediately after take-off. Junkrat decided he’d keep Sombra company, seeing as how she was the only person to talk to. An hour into their flight, Symmetra had finally made good on her word to rest. Her eyes were closed, and her breath was slow and rhythmic. The aircraft's vibrations were lulling.

“Have half a mind t’sleep m’self,” Junkrat yawned.

“Ugh. Don’t leave me flying all by myself,” Sombra groaned.

“No worries. Wouldn’t leave ya’ alone. 'Specially if she wakes up,” Junkrat muttered.

“It’s been, like, two hours. How can you hate someone in two hours?” Sombra snickered.

“Don’t hate ‘er. Just... I dunno’. She’s weird. Can’t put a finger on it,”. Sombra let out a chuckle.

“Thought you’d at least like the view. Hog told me you're an 'ass-man'... but I get what you mean. Tried to find some more info on her, and I can’t find... ANYTHING! Well, I can find the usual stuff. Smart cookie worked her way up the corporate ladder. Super talented, too. Can’t find anything dirty though. Keeps her nose clean, which is why you probably got a weird vibe,” she explained. Junkrat looked over his shoulder to try and get a bead on Symmetra. Even in her sleep, she sat perfectly straight while leaning back against her seat. Her head was only slightly tilted to the side. If it weren’t for her closed eyes, he’d swear she was awake. 

“Ain’t she, like, a spy or somethin’?” he asked. Sombra shrugged.

“Yeah, but she’s a clean spy, I guess. Corporate espionage, if that’s what you want to call it. Never been caught on camera. No criminal record. At least, not that I’ve come across. Doesn’t make sense. It’s almost like she’s a ghost. Kinda’ impressed, you know? But it's frustrating, too,”. Junkrat rubbed his narrow chin in thought. 

“Didn’t get a chance t’read up on her in that file thingo. Why’s she takin’ over my lab?” he wondered. At that, Sombra smirked.

“And spoil the surprise? I’ll let you see it with your own eyes. Her boss may be a complete douche, but I won't lie. Vishkar tech does some amazing shit. Haven’t seen anything like it, and she’s supposedly the best there is,”. _Tech, ay? Wonder what she does with it._ Tech probably meant building, which was probably why she needed the use of a workroom. But what could she possibly build? She hadn’t brought any tools or blueprints into the lab. At least, not that he’d noticed. His sparked curiosity began to kindle. 

They landed a few hours later somewhere in the Guangxi province. Junkrat was unfamiliar with any details of the region, but Hog mentioned that Symmetra would be slipping through some sort of tower to do what she was brought in for. Their job was to break into the large bank on the lower levels. With security focused on them, she could do as she pleased. 

They took their time unloading everything into the small commercial truck that was waiting for them at their landing site. Sombra would wait for them aboard her ship, and monitor their transmissions and communications, as well as navigate them should they become lost. Symmetra stepped back into the ship just before they were supposed to leave.

“One moment. I should probably switch into my tactical uniform before we depart,” she informed,”. Junkrat rolled his eyes. A separate uniform just for spy work? It seemed so counter-intuitive. _Hi! Yes! I am part of the Vishkar spy program! See my special uniform?_ He smirked at his own sarcastic inner monologue. Junkrat added that to the mental tally in his head of things he didn’t like about her. He didn’t want to think about WHY it was so necessary for him to do so. It just needed to happen. He just needed that confirmation that she was just like all of the other Suits he’d encountered.

“Much better,” she hummed as she came clicking down the steps of the ship. Junkrat turned around, expecting her to be dressed in darker colors, and came to a full stop when he caught sight of her. _That! That ain’t no uniform! What th’fuck, lady?!_ The dress of sorts she had on was cut up high around the hip with leggings pulled up her legs, stopping just at her upper thighs. Bright blue? Gold trim? It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing he imagined a spy to wear, but damn if wasn’t a fan of the look! Her hair had been let down, and long back tresses brushed nearly down to her mid back. But something else caught Junkrat’s attention: her left arm.

It seemed so glaringly obvious, what with its stark white casing and bright blue lights at the shoulder. She’d covered it up with her jacket all before, and he hadn’t taken the time to notice the white fingers and black palm peeking out from her cuff. She’d turned her wrist, examining her palm, where another disk of blue light emanated. She looked like something straight out of a superhero movie, not a spy-flick!

“Subtle,” Junkrat muttered under his breath.

“You’re one to talk,” Sombra muttered back, and Junkrat shrugged while nodding his acceptance. Fair was fair.

“Are we ready to depart?” she asked after finally approaching the pair. Junkrat looked over his shoulder as Roadhog closed up and secured the back of the truck.

“Errr... yeah. Guess so. You ridin’ up front with me, or in back with Hog?” he asked while thumbing over towards his bodyguard. Symmetra looked back and forth between the two.

“Up front, I suppose... it will be more comfortable,”. It was a tactful response, which he hadn’t anticipated. 

“Roight, well, Som, see ya’ back here in a tick?” Junkrat shrugged and waved at her.

“Alright, kids. Have fun. Don’t stay out too late,” she smirked and climbed back aboard her ship as though there wasn’t a care in the world. Junkrat and Symmetra turned and walked over towards the truck.

“She’s funny. Is she always that way?” Symmetra asked, almost to herself. Junkrat raised his eyebrows. Small talk? It felt so humanizing, even though it was probably just an attempt to fill the silence between them.

“Yeah. She’s a real riot... I’m funnier though,” Junkrat replied with a tinge of smugness towards the end. At least, he liked to think so. He knew he had to be because he was the only person in Junkertown to ever get the big guy to laugh, and even that was only on rare occasion. Symmetra, however, didn’t seem entirely convinced.   
Hog climbed through a sliding side door to the vehicle. Junkrat and Symmetra pulled themselves up and into the cab, and he opened the small window behind them as she buckled herself in. Junkrat poked his head through to spot his friend, who sat among their supplies.

“Mate, you ready t’hit it?” he asked. Hog gave a thumbs-up. Rat closed the window and started up the engine.

“Your earpiece! Where is it?” Symmetra asked with a slight start. 

“Oh! Ahhhh,” he started while rifling through the pockets of his baggy camouflage shorts, “Here!”. He held the small plastic case up for her to see. Inside was a tiny disk, no bigger than a penny. He popped the case open and stuck it behind his ear where it firmly attached to his skin.

“Finally!” Sombra confirmed, her voice reverberated through his skull.

“I ain’t ever gonna’ get used t’this sorta’ thing,”.

“For real though, you guys need to get going. I got boss-man breathing down my neck. Switching off for now. Call if you need me, alright?” she said, and the tiniest click could be heard before his brain was once again filled with silence.

“Fasten your seatbelt, Junkrat. Safety first,” Symmetra instructed.

 

**.           .           .           .           .**

 

It was a somewhat uncomfortable ride out to their breach point. Keeping up small talk with a man like Junkrat was difficult. What could you say to a man like him? What could one possibly say to a wanted felon straight from an honest to goodness apocalyptic wasteland, who rarely wore shirts, and carried an astronomical bounty? He and his hired man struck her as people to be frightened of. They were insane and dangerous, and yet, Sanjay ordered her to work alongside them.

  
Sanjay always had her best interests at heart. He said Talon was misaligned. Their purpose was misunderstood; that working with them would actually help Vishkar achieve its goal. It made sense when he explained it, but it didn’t mean she had to like the people she worked with. Junkrat’s lack of self-preservation slowly gnawed more and more at her brain. How could anyone live they way he did, both figuratively and literally? Explosives unsecured?! Dangerous chemicals and compounds kept within such close proximity to each other?! And how could he find anything of importance in that mess he dared to call a laboratory? She was still frustrated with how much work she had to do just to keep herself from exploding in her own temporary workspace. That wasn’t even taking his lack of armor or even clothing into consideration. Neither of the Junkers took the time to wear a shirt. On a man of Roadhog’s stature, that made sense. Did shirts his size even exist? She supposed he’d probably have to have them custom-made, and that couldn’t be easy, given their lifestyle.

To keep the conversation steering in an acceptable direction, Symmetra pulled her small phone out of her case and navigated Junkrat as to where to go. The fact that she had to do so annoyed her. He had a week to read up on the mission to prepare himself, but he hadn’t. _Sloppy in both manner of dress and work._

  
“Turn left at the next intersection,” she quietly instructed. Junkrat merged over, cutting off another vehicle, and they blared their horn. Symmetra grimaced. _If he draws attention from the police, I am bolting!_ She said nothing. Quarreling would only distract them from the task at hand.

“Alright, I gotta’ ask. What’s with th’get-up? Thought you were, like, sneakin’ around and stuff. Don’t look much like sneakin’ clothes,” he observed, turning his head slightly in her direction. She looked down towards her uniform.

“Security precaution. The fabric is capable of cloaking my body heat from thermal scanners, but you need some skin exposed to breathe so you do not overheat... I made it blue because I like the color,” she replied. 

“Ain’t really subtle though,” Junkrat noted.

“It doesn’t need to be when I already am,” she smirked. A little chuckle escaped the man, and deep down she enjoyed being able to make someone laugh. It hadn’t happened all that often after taking the position as lead architech. She’d noticed quite a while ago that the higher up one climbed within the corporation, the more serious one became. 

“Hm... S’pose so. S’whatcha’ doin’ when we get inside?” he asked with a note of genuine curiosity.

“I will be hacking into Lucheng Interstellar’s servers on Sombra’s behalf. Or rather, secure the connection so she can do so. She’s made herself familiar with the company, unfortunately. Their latest security upgrade means every camera now has facial-recognition software installed, so we only get one shot at this. That’s why they’re sending me in,” she informed. 

“Oh!” Junkrat piped, “Sounds fancy. You got a theme song gonna’ play the entire time you’re inside? Like in the movies?”. Symmetra couldn’t suppress the slight little chuckle from escaping her. _What an utterly silly notion._

  
“Not this time. I’m afraid I haven’t settled on one I like,”. Junkrat let out a little cackle at that. At least he was amiable enough, though he still gave her mixed feelings. She didn’t want to work with the pair of ruffians, but he was making a genuine attempt to be cordial with her, and she was a touch appreciative of that. Civility was always a better business practice. 

“Pull into that car park over to the right. Find a spot not close to any light,” she ordered. The little smile on Junkrat’s face vanished as he did what she said. Symmetra pointed out a spot that would suit their needs, and he backed up into it. Once she hopped out of the cab, she realized just how crooked the vehicle was. _Sloppy and careless!_ Oh, it irked her, but their schedule was running tight, and there was no time to grab the keys and try to fix it. As she opened the back, she grabbed her case and popped the locks. Roadhog hopped out the side and helped his charge ready himself for their part of the mission. He handed Junkrat a harness that the lanky man strapped onto himself. To it, he snapped on multiple grenades covered in smiling faces. He spun around and thumbed towards his back his back. 

“Load ‘er up, mate. Don’t plan on usin’ it, but they always look scary,” he ordered. Roadhog opened up a crate that Symmetra hadn’t looked into. He pulled out an old heavy rubber tire covered in spikes and clicked it onto Junkrat’s back.

“What on earth is that?!” Symmetra asked, bewildered. Junkrat looked over at her with a beaming smile, confusing her gasp of shock as one of admiration.

“My RIPtire! Give the chain a yank, and she’ll go speedin’ off. Got a little remote control, too. Can’t get super precise, but gets ‘er goin’ pretty close t’where y’want ‘er t’go! And then... BOOM!” he explained, pleased as punch with the monstrous contraption. Roadhog pulled out a grenade launcher that looked like it was made from old car parts. Bits of it were held together by duct tape. He handed it over to Junkrat, and she caught herself feeling impressed with how much weight he could carry. He certainly didn’t look like he was capable at first glance. 

“C’mon! Fair’s fair! What’s in your box?” Junkrat tried, and she shook her head, realizing that she was beginning to stare.

“Tools of my trade,” she ambiguously replied and pulled out her headset. She slipped it on and clicked the side. The blue-tinted visor lit up, and computer graphics laid out the path of the tunnels that ran underneath the car park. She took out a small pouch that contained the two items Sombra had packed for her in advance and looped the handle around her waist. Lastly came her photon projector.

“Looks fancy! What’s it do?” he prodded. What couldn’t it do?

“The photon projector has many applications, which we don’t have the time to discuss right now, unfortunately. A moment, please,”. Symmetra hopped back onto the truck and took a moment to close her eyes and steady her breath. She held out her palm and tugged away at the loose tendrils of light. She sculpted the wire-frame, as she had so many times before, and from it, she shaped a teleporter base. She sat the lotus-blossom shaped contraption down on the corrugated metal floor. After touching the buttons at its base, it began to glow, ready to connect with the next one she’d create. She hopped back out of the truck, and pulled the rolling door down, locking it closed. 

“That was! Was! What? How did you DO that?!” Junkrat asked, utterly baffled. Roadhog stood stiffly, and she assumed it was in slight shock. The mask he wore certainly didn't help.

“Hard light technology. I’ll explain later,” she once again replied. His interest was flattering, but stroking her ego would have to wait for another time. She strode over to the back of the car park, where cement met grass. The grassy expanse dropped into a deep ditch filled with tall bamboo stalks. Just before the stalks gleamed a rectangular metal grate. Symmetra pointed towards it. 

“That is our point of entry. Sir? Would you be kind enough to lift the grate for us?” she asked while looking up towards Roadhog.

“Since you asked so nicely,” Hog rumbled, with a laugh-like wheeze. He reached down and grasped the expanse of steel on either side. He quickly pulled it up, as though it were as light as a feather, and, with a surprising amount of delicacy, carefully laid it upon the grass. Symmetra gave a curt nod of approval.

“Thank you. From here, we enter these service tunnels that will take us directly underneath the tower. You two will split off, and your path should take you right underneath the bank on the ground level. You’ll need to wait for my signal before you begin your diversion, so keep your earpiece on,”. The Junkers nodded in confirmation, and she lowered herself down the iron rungs until she hit cement. Junkrat slung the grenade launcher over his shoulder and hobbled down after her. Watching him climb with a peg leg was unnerving at first, but he proved to be quite dexterous. _He must have grown used to his leg quite some time ago. Perhaps he was born without it, or his arm._ Sym suddenly remembered the horrific condition the workroom had been in upon her arrival and the likelihood of his missing limbs being a natural occurrence completely vanished. 

Hog handed their lone crate down and followed down after them. The tunnels were poorly lit towards the entrance, and Symmetra brightened her visor for a moment, scanning the walls surrounding them. A digital white map lay beyond what couldn’t be seen. Theirs wasn’t the only path leading towards the tower, but none would take her as close as she needed to be. 

“So whatta’-,” Junkrat began, but she stifled him by pressing her palm firmly against his mouth. She shook her head no. _How could he be so careless as to speak without assessing if anyone was nearby?_ His shocking blonde eyebrows came together, and annoyed eyes stared back at her. Symmetra clicked at her headset and zoomed in several yards down the tunnel. The outline of a utility terminal came into view. Just as planned. She beckoned the duo to follow her with her finger and then motioned to stay silent. Well, relatively silent. Roadhog's steps thumped loudly on the concrete below them, and Junkrat's peg leg clicked a sharp staccato. She couldn't fault them for that, though.  
Just as Sombra had described, the terminal was really just an old computer for monitoring the water mains for the building, among other such information. What was on it was irrelevant. It had the plug she’d been told to find, and she felt a little more confident about the mission. She tugged her pack open and pulled out an unassuming thumb drive. After plugging it in, the light at the tip began to glow red. She waited the fifteen seconds for it to turn green. Everyone held still, and it was a touch unnerving. The quarter of a minute ticked by agonizingly slow, but it switched colors, and Symmetra breathed a small sigh of relief. She removed the drive and slipped it back into her pouch. A quick touch to her headset opened the voice channel back up.

“I’m in,” she informed the hacker waiting back at the ship.

“Hey! That’s my line!” Sombra joked. It must have seemed funny to her because the woman laughed to herself on the other end. Sym figured it was one of those jokes where you just had to be there. 

“Anyone nearby?” she asked, trying to bring Sombra’s attention back into focus.

“No, actually. You all lucked out. Not picking up any heat signatures for either of your paths. No bots, either. At least, not until the very tail end. Let me just... there we go. Security cameras are taken care of. No worry about getting spotted,” she assured. Another sigh of relief eked out of her. She’d rather not come into contact with security drones or staff.

“You may now speak, Junkrat,” Symmetra confirmed. Surprisingly, he still seemed perturbed from cutting him off before.

“Right, well... which way do we go?” he asked while scratching his head and looking around. 

“Straight ahead for about a quarter of a mile. Split off will take you boys left, and Symmetra will keep going straight. You’ll know when to stop, trust me. Tunnels dead-end right where you need to pop up. Symmetra? You got the Rubber Ducky?”.

“Yes, though I don’t know why you insist on calling it something so ridiculous,” she muttered back. Sombra chuckled, not the least bit offended.

“Hey, I didn’t name it, but don’t let the title fool you. It’s one of the most powerful tools of the trade. So’s that Pineapple, too,” she replied, referring to the equally unassuming router tucked inside her pouch. 

Just as Sombra had predicted, the tunnel split into two parts. Junkrat and Roadhog turned down their path and dipped out of sight. Symmetra continued onward.

“You don’t say much, do you, Vaswani?” Sombra noted. 

“When I am on duty, please refer to me as Symmetra. And I apologize in advance. I am not much of a conversationalist while I work. I prefer to concentrate,” she corrected.

“Fair’s fair. I’ll sign off. Buzz me or the Junkers if you need us, alright?”. Sym confirmed she would, and her headset grew silent.

Working with other people in her “after hours” tasks was unfamiliar territory. There were people counting on her to get in and out unnoticed. Ideally, she wouldn’t even need her two new partners to create a diversion, but it was a little reassuring knowing she had them as back up. In past missions, Sanjay would be on the other end of her earpiece, giving her fair warning if she’d missed a guard here or there. She hoped Sombra was as good at her job as she said she was.

Her tunnel came to an abrupt stop, and iron ladder rungs led to another grate up above, where footsteps echoed downwards. She backed up into the shadows and scanned. Her visor highlighted three people and a drone milling about some sort of office. She pressed her hand against her earpiece, once again activating the channel.

“Junkrat, I’m detecting some opposition. Are you and Roadhog in position?” she nearly whispered. 

“Right-o! Ready an’ waitin’!” he replied with the most chipper voice she ever thought possible. She grimaced at his volume. _When all of this is over, I need to teach him the concepts of “stealth” and “discretion”._

Over her headset, there was the sound of the alarm being tripped. It blared in her ear, and she switched back off from the Junkers.  _Too loud!_ She looked up the tube and heard mumbled shouts up above. The drone took off. Apparently, the alarm wasn’t something worth a full investigation, and she gritted her teeth. _Very well._

  
She climbed the ladder as silently as possible, and came to a stop just below the grate. She unholstered her projector and charged a shot. She pointed upward and loosed an orb. The ball of light popped through the metal grid and burst with a loud zap. The guards above gave lurches and groans before passing out onto the floor. _They won’t stay asleep forever!_ Symmetra pushed up the floor cover and climbed out of the concrete tube.

  
The security office was smaller than she expected, though the main station was on the third floor, if her blueprints were correct. Thankfully, she didn’t need to sneak into that death trap. Any computer would suffice. She pulled the Rubber Ducky out once more, and clicked it into the first available port she could find. A half of a minute later, Sombra’s face smiled back at her.

  
“Hola!” she greeted with a little wave.

  
“Servers are on the forty-second floor?” Symmetra asked for confirmation.

  
“Sure are! And...” she replied, and tacked away at her keyboard, “cameras from here on out are fixed,”. She looked back down at her own monitors, which lay out of sight.

“Shit. You better start haulin’ ass. Boys put on a bigger show than they expected. Got a big crowd waiting out front,” Sombra warned. _Of course they would!_ She couldn’t think too much upon them if she hoped to focus. Having people on her team meant there were lives other than her own on the line, and she needed to follow her path if she wanted to get them all out of there. She ran towards the nearest elevator and punched the correct button. 

Symmetra could be patient when she wanted to, but not in that elevator. It whirred, and its beeps slowly drilled into her brain. Each one reminded her that Junkrat and Roadhog might need rescuing, and she didn’t like having to plan a new escape route on the fly. It finally hit the forty-second floor, and she nearly ran right out.

The server room was downright chilly, and loud to boot. Industrial fans in the ceiling above blasted downwards, cooling off the equipment so it wouldn’t overheat.

“Can you hear me?” Sombra’s voice somehow cut through the noise. “Don’t try talking. Those fans are distorting. I can see you on camera. Just shake your head yes or no,”. Sym nodded, looking up at the lens.

“Okay. The Pineapple is simple enough. Kinda like the Rubber Ducky. I need you to find a switch and plug it in. You’ll want to put it somewhere discrete,". Sym once again nodded at the camera and set out to look for a decent spot. After a minute of frantic searching, a space on one of the racks came into sight. She reached into the pouch once more and pulled out the compact router and cord. Upon plugging it in, she tucked it behind and among the tidy bunches of wires and cords. She appreciated the organizer’s eye for detail and functionality. 

“Shit. You got a guard coming your way!” Sombra warned. _Blast!_ Sym had dealt with that sort of thing before, and while she was good at wiggling out of the situations, she never liked the way she went about it.

“You! What are you doing here?!” A man hollered from the other end of the aisle. Symmetra’s headset had a touch of delay as it translated the words for her. Cool and calm, she turned around to face the man casually; or rather, as though she belonged there.

“Ah! Good! I was hoping someone would arrive. I was hired by Lucheng to perform a security penetration test. Hello. My name is Symmetra,” she replied while holding out her hand in greeting. Her words didn’t come out in English, but rather in perfect Mandarin, thanks to the handy bit of technology. The security guard in his tidy gray and black uniform shook her hand but remained slightly skeptical.

“No one told me there’d be a penetration test today,” he stated.

“No one was supposed to know. That is the point of these tests,”. 

“Bad timing, too. Got a lot going on downstairs at the moment,” he added, his eyes further narrowing.

“Oh? I’d been scheduled for months. What’s going on downstairs?” she asked, feigning innocence. 

“Bank on the ground floor is being robbed. The police are already on their way. A couple of maniacs with bombs and shotguns,” he informed, and she figured he must have been relaxing a touch as he slowly bought her story.

“Well, that explains where everyone went. I heard Lucheng’s security is second to none, but was surprised at how easily I was able to get in here. I’ll have to make a note when I wrap up this test. You, on the other hand, are doing a fantastic job. What is your name, sir, so I may tell your superiors?”. A beaming smile cracked across the guard’s face. He must have been particularly desperate for recognition. 

“Zhang Wei!” he beamed. Symmetra bowed her head just slightly.

“I’ll make sure they get the memo. You’re the only one dedicated enough to stay put and monitor the floor!” she smiled. Zhang Wei was too delighted by her words to notice her quick movements. She whipped out the projector, and popped a little pulse his way, knocking him out.

“Whoa! That’s cold, Sym!” Sombra cut back in.

“He’ll be fine. I just drained him. He’ll wake up a little groggy, and won't remember the last few minutes,” she corrected. 

“Fuck! Police have shown up. They’re not messing around, either! They got Rat and Hog surrounded!” Sombra shouted through the headset. Symmetra was in work mode. Her part of the mission was complete. She was supposed to leave, and meet them back in the tunnels, but the prospect of leaving two people behind simply wasn’t an option for her. She would not fail the mission, and that included bringing the team back safely, didn't it? She ran back to the elevator and switched the headset to open both channels.

“Junkrat?! Roadhog?! What’s your status?” she asked, grimacing at its slow pace.  _Get here already, damn you!_

“Fucked! We’re fucked, okay?! So just get th’fuck outta’ here!” Junkrat roared. 

“Not an option! I’m on my way!”.

"Okay, Sym. If you're doing this, fuck that elevator. You see that climate vent near the east wall?" Sombra asked. Symmetra located it, and her visor highlighted the path of the ducts hiding behind.

"Yes," Symmetra answered.

"They're almost literally at the bottom there. You hop down there, you'll land right on top of them. You got a way to get down?". Symmetra already had an idea for a pulley-system coming together.

"Yes. I'll be down there in a minute,".

 

**.           .           .           .           .**

 

“Mate! I didn’t want it t’end like this!” Junkrat grit. There where police everywhere. He’d sustained a nasty graze on his arm. He and Hog had a few mines and grenades left, and it was the only thing keeping the cops from opening fire. They wouldn’t risk an explosion around themselves and so many civilians. Symmetra’s voice came through on the headset. He told her no. Don’t come for them. There was no point in having another person die, but she was persistent.

And what exactly could she do to even help them? She only had one weapon, and he wasn’t even sure how powerful the damn thing was! _So this is how it ends? Dyin’ so some Suit could slip inta’ a buildin’? Dying fer a Suit..._ Life had always been cruel to him and Roadhog. Why shouldn’t their deaths be any less cruel? Regardless, he didn’t want her to come. Suit or no, she didn’t deserve to die on account of his own fuck-up.

  
The explosion had been too much. They should have gone smaller, less noticeable to start. He could have bought some time by taking a guard hostage, but he hated the whole hostage scenario. They always brought negotiators in and it was always such a big ol’ mess. Still, he did get a nice shot in at the drone bot. The shrapnel at his feet brought a smile to his face. Blowing up a bot was pure satisfaction. 

“Turn ourselves in?” Hog suggested.

“An’ give ‘em th’satisfaction?!” he barked back. He and Hog had been to prison once, and he doubted they’d underestimate him a second time. They’d slap them into solitary confinement to waste away, and death was far more appealing than that.

Without warning, there was a blinding flash of bright blue-white light! It was disorienting, and burned his eyes, even beyond closed lids. When he was able to acknowledge his surroundings again, he noticed his hand being tugged.

“Sym?!” he yelped in surprise. There she was! He wasn’t sure how she even got there, but she’d kept her word, and he was frantically following her lead back towards the hole of the service tunnel they’d snuck through. Hog had already pulled the grate off, and threw it at the still-disoriented police. And then the most miraculous thing happened. Suddenly there was a blue portal in front of him. The light shimmered and rippled like water, and he didn’t know why it was there. Symmetra held her arm high, and a dome of transparent... something formed around them. She reached over and grabbed a grenade from his harness before she gave him a shove.

“Quickly! Through the portal!” she ordered. Hog paused for just a moment but jumped through and promptly disappeared.

“Th’fuck?” Junkrat blundered.

“GET IN!” Symmetra snapped and gave him an even harder shove. He toppled over and fell into it. A second later, he was flat on his stomach, feeling the cold metal of the truck bed beneath him. He rolled over to see what was happening around him. Symmetra ran through the shimmering oval, pulled the pin, and threw the grenade back through. She dropped to the floor, and practically punched the button at the base. The window of light evaporated into nothingness, and she fell backward, gasping from the excitement.

“Th-th’fuck! Th’bloody fuckin’ FUCK!” Junkrat also gasped. 

“Sym! That! Holy shit, lady!” Sombra stammered through his skull.

“The dome contained the blast?” she asked.

“Looks like it! That was amazing!” Sombra replied. 

“Good!” she sighed from exertion. 

“But none of you are done yet. You need to get back here, NOW!” Sombra quickly instructed. Junkrat and Symmetra popped back up, hopped out of the sliding door, and climbed back up into the cab. Sym didn’t even lecture him about his seatbelt. He turned the ignition and slammed his foot down onto the pedal. They drove off into the night back towards Sombra’s ship.


	3. Ch 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symmetra is reprimanded for saving the Junkers, though the pair go out of their way to give thanks to their hero.

“The Pineapple implant was a success. We were able to gain access to their servers, and find the data we were looking for,” Sombra reported as she stood in front of the glossy black conference table. A couple hovering program windows shimmered above, displaying data files on one side, and scrolling code on the other.

“But the device was found and destroyed, yes?” Akande asked for clarification. Sombra brushed the holograms away, and they slid to the side and then behind her. She clasped her hands behind her in an attempted to appear professional and stately. Junkrat and Roadhog stood somewhat at attention to her right, and Symmetra scanned the room on her left.

“We did lose connection. It has a built-in self-destruct program set for when it’s unplugged. Good for hiding tracks. We got everything we needed, and then some. It would only have been a matter of time before they found it on their own routine sweeps anyways. Losing the Pineapple isn’t an issue,” Sombra reassured.

“But being captured on camera is,” Lacroix cut in. Symmetra eyes flicked to her side as Sombra cringed just the slightest, and she herself bit the sides of her cheeks to stifle her own grimace. _So careless! So incredibly careless!_ She’d never been caught on camera before. Sombra had fixed the security feed, but she hadn’t been able to prevent civilians with their phones whipped out. It wasn’t every day a bank was physically robbed, and certainly not in such a comic-book fashion. A few idiots stuck around to record the event (rather than flee the vicinity) and one of them had caught her on video.

Junkrat and Roadhog were known thieves. Their bounty was astronomical, and they were borderline celebrities on the global crime reports. That was why they were the perfect distraction. But she went back for them. Her orders were to get in and get out. The Junkers’ orders were to simply rob the bank, and find their own way back. Their paths were not meant to cross until their return to Sombra’s plane. Thankfully, the flash she’d produced blurred the lenses and disoriented those nearby. The bit of video of her was fuzzy and grainy, and the lighting was obscuring. Only the shadow of her silhouette was discernible. _At least there’s that._

“Trrruuuuee, but there aren’t any means of identification. And either way, none of these three have any proven links to Talon. At worst, they’ll assume she hired them,” the hacker responded in an effort to cover for herself and her new coworkers. Lacroix’s face held still, as it had the entire meeting. Akande’s brow was dropped into a furious scowl, though if photos were any indicator, that was just the face he always made. The man they called Reaper sat with his arms crossed. What face he made behind his mask was a mystery to all of them; much like Roadhog. Dr. O’Deorain merely observed while looking over steepled fingertips. Why she was there was beyond Symmetra. This was a meeting concerning post-mission detailing, not scientific or medical matters. She caught the slender red-haired woman looking at her a few times, and frankly, it was starting to make the architech feel uncomfortable.

“Let’s hope you’re right... It seems we’re done with the matter for now. Tomorrow morning we will hold another briefing for our next mission. Nine o’clock... Meeting adjourned,” Akande informed, and the four in front of them rose from their cushioned chairs. They filed out into the hall, leaving Symmetra, Sombra, and the two Junkers.

“Fuck, they sounded mad,” Sombra groaned while reaching into the pocket of her long leather coat, “I mean, they always sound that way, but this time they have a reason to be mad, so that sucks for us,”. She pulled out a half-full pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“I need a drink but that’s frowned upon before lunch. Any of you care to join me outside?” she offered. Junkrat and Roadhog agreed to accompany her, though passed on the cigarettes. Symmetra was surprised that they were non-smokers. It just seemed like something they’d naturally gravitate towards given their lifestyle. As they followed the other fours’ path out into the hall, she noticed Junkrat bump shoulders with someone; purposefully upsetting them. Junkrat sneered at the man, who walked into the doorway. It was Sanjay, and Symmetra’s annoyance at Junkrat’s rudeness immediately transformed to dread. Her stomach dropped, as though she’d swallowed a brick. Her heart began to race. Sanjay knew about her slip-up, and anxiety began to tremor through her. She shot up to stand at attention and held her hand out in greeting.

“Sit,” Sanjay ordered without so much as glancing at her. A lump worked into her throat, and she did as instructed by sitting in one of the black leather chairs. He took a seat across from her and laced his fingers on the tabletop.

“The mission didn’t go well,” he started. She folded her hands in her lap and held her breath to steady herself.

“It went very well, up until the end. I was caught on video, though it’s distorted enough where identifying myself or my affiliation with Vishkar seems highly unlikely. According to police reports, my flash orb disoriented witnesses, and no discernible features were reported,” she responded.

“You didn’t follow orders,” he quietly retorted.

“The orders didn’t say anything about emergency situations, and-,”.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You knew better, and I do not want to waste time,”. Sanjay’s brown eyes weren’t framed by an angry brow. His featured weren’t scrunched in frustration. If anything, they almost seemed soft. His voice was even and collected. Sanjay was disappointed, and Symmetra wondered if she’d prefer anger over that.

“I was brought in to work with a team. I assumed bringing them all back alive would have been a priority,” she tried explaining.

“I can see why and how you faltered. You let your emotions take control...They’re mercenaries and degenerates, Vaswani. It is better to work along SIDE them, rather than along WITH them. Do you understand?”. Symmetra nodded in acceptance, though deep down she didn’t agree. She could never tell him that. It wasn’t her place. He’d rebuke her for having “fanciful thoughts of foolish heroics”. But why allow people to die when it could be prevented, degenerates or no?

“I understand,” she answered, not wanting to seem confrontational. Sanjay unlaced his fingers and took a more relaxed stance.

“I’ll chalk it up to settling in. Change in the workplace can trip up even the most skilled employee. There will be no disciplinary actions,” he continued in a soothing voice, “I’m sure you’ll perform admirably in your next outing,”. Symmetra once again nodded, thankful that there wouldn’t be a mark to taint her impeccable record.

“I’m sorry if I came off as bitter. This is just the sort of thing that had me worried. When Dr. O’Deorain contacted me, she’d requested the best of the best. I told her you’d be perfect for the position. I worry what sort of first impression this will give her,”. Sanjay couldn’t look her in the eyes. Guilt weighed heavily upon her heart. Here Sanjay vouched for her to represent the best Vishkar had to offer, and she’d nearly failed.

“Dr. O’Deorain contacted you?” she asked out of pure curiosity. As far as she knew, Moira was a geneticist. A highly skilled one, but a doctor none the less. She seemed an odd choice for Talon messenger.  From what she’d gathered from the dossier provided, she wasn’t entirely part of the board. Talon allowed her to continue her research, and in return, she’d aid the organization with her discoveries and scientific advancements.

“Yes. She and I are acquaintances. She’s also the Minister of Genetics in Oasis. I was hoping to build a better rapport with her. Vishkar could establish a presence there. It would open so many doors for us, and garner a positive response from the public eye. We need this, Vaswani, and that’s why I’ve entrusted you with this task... If you’re not capable-,”.

“Sanjay... I will do everything in my power... I will not falter again,” she reassured. Her superior slowly stood up from his seat.

“That is good to hear. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a tight schedule today. I’ll be heading to Venice tomorrow, and Rio the day after that. I still have that nasty uprising to contain. It seems that Lucio character has convinced his angry mob that Vishkar is still controlling their mayor. They’ll understand someday,” Sanjay elaborated, growing more annoyed with every word spoken. He left the way he came; stiff and professional.

“Take care, Vaswani,” he said as an afterthought before exiting the room entirely. Symmetra let out the concerned sigh she’d held the entire time he’d occupied the space. _I’ll do better next time. I have to._

 

**.                .               .             .               .**

 

Junkrat spent the better part of the morning dicking around outside with Sombra and Roadhog. The three were still flustered from the meeting; Sombra more-so than they were. The duo wasn't getting paid to care all that much, but Sombra was. Their part of the mission had been a success, though it still didn't feel too good being told you were a failure, or rather, that you were the reason someone else failed.

"I don't get how we failed. Hog an' I did what they told us t'do, roight?" he asked for clarification as he dug into his pocket. Sombra took a drag off her cigarette and blew smoke out in a steady stream.

"She wasn't supposed to come after you two, and she wasn't supposed to be seen by local authorities or the public. They're blowing shit out of proportion, though. She's lucky no one got a good look at her. At least she scrambled the security guards enough to where they don’t really remember her. Her boss probably would have fired her on the spot if they did... are you lighting a smoke bomb?". Sombra paused mid-puff, and Junkrat tossed the tiny sulfur-smelling orb over his shoulder. A purple cloud rose up from the grass, and he shrugged.

"It's a smoke-break, roight? Didn't say which kinda' smoke," he reasoned. Sombra gave a chuckle while shaking her head.

"At least you two know how to have some fun around here," she muttered with a smirk.

"Her boss's that prick we saw comin' out? Th'one from last week?" Hog rumbled while fanning the violet smoke away from him.

"You bet. You remember Dorado? Well, we haven't exactly made friends with him or his buddy Portero. Those two got quite a deal together," she started, and flicked off the excess ash, "But Akande's given us... well, me, special orders to keep my nose out of his business and try to play nice... bullshit,". Having finally met their new team member, Junkrat's curiosity of her business and boss was piqued.

“Fuck, really? Hog! Let’s go fuck up whatever he came in on! Got some paint n’shit in th’lab!” Junkrat snickered. The moment something was ever deemed “off-limits” to the peg-legged Junker was the exact minute he’d grow interested in it. He liked the challenge. Who was this other person telling him he couldn’t?!

“Wouldn’t advise it. He technically signs your paycheck. Fuck with Vishkar, say goodbye to your money. Reyes would have you chucked out of here so damn quick... if he’s feeling nice. And trust me, that doesn’t happen all that often,” she warned. Much as Junkrat was feeling disappointed, he also knew it’d be better to heed Sombra’s suggestion concerning Reaper. _Nope. Pretty sure he’d just straight up snuff us._

“Look, I don’t really have much planned for the day, but I at least gotta’ pretend to be doing something. Think we’d better get back inside,” she advised while flicking the butt on the walkway, and ground it under the ball of her foot. She twisted her wrist up, and a digital clock display popped up. It read a quarter to noon.

“Hey! Look at that. Just about time for lunch!” she grinned, and the clock vanished.

Junkrat walked back towards the door alongside Sombra. A warm breeze blew past them, stirring the stagnant air. Every day was humid and sticky since the Junkers arrived in Brazil, though he’d take that over cold any day. The time spent outside of the nearly windowless compound was helpful. He didn’t feel particularly stressed. It was just like any other Tuesday. _Tuesday...TUESDAY!_

“TUESDAYHOGDUMPLINGS!” he shouted, causing Sombra to jump with a slight yelp.

“What the shit, Rat?!” she snapped, but turned along with him towards where Roadhog had stood behind them. Only, he was nowhere in sight.

“Okay, that is genuinely impressive,” she remarked.

Once again, Roadhog had beaten them to the lunch room, and once again they cut in line to catch up with him. He’d already snagged the chaffing dish of dumplings and was heading towards the tables behind the serving area. The mess hall was slowly starting to fill, though their usual table remained empty. As Roadhog passed by, another table with a lone occupant became visible. Symmetra sat by herself. Her tray was filled with a salad, some fish, and a side of steamed broccoli. Not a single fried thing graced her plate, which was a shame because Junkrat thought fried food was always the superior option. Perhaps she just didn’t know what she was missing out on. Roadhog came to a stop and looked down at her until he caught her eye (which didn’t take long).

“Y’like prawns?” he rumbled. Surprised by the unexpected question, Symmetra was reduced to answering truthfully.

“Yes?” she replied, as though worried it might be the wrong answer. Roadhog pulled the lid off and sat it on her table. He grabbed the tongs, which looked like tweezers in his massive hand, and popped three treasured morsels on her plate. As though nothing in the world was out of place, he slipped the tongs back in the dish, covered it back up, and left without another word. Symmetra raised a puzzled eyebrow and skewered one of them with a fork. After a couple of sniffs, she took a small bite out of one of them. At the very least, she clearly liked them, and went back to her lunch, forgetting the rest of it entirely as she flicked through a technical manual.

“Oi, what gives, mate? How come she gets some an’ I don’t?!” Junkrat snipped as they progressed to their table.

“She saved our asses. Deserves ‘em. You’re th’reason we almost carked it,” Hog explained. Junkrat shrugged and didn’t deny that he’d once again taken things a little too far. Part way through his own meal (in which he once again went without snagging a single item from Hog’s metal pan), he looked back up to notice that Symmetra was gone. Something tugged at him. It felt like guilt, or perhaps merely just the sense that he owed her something in thanks. He shook his head and went back to the chips covering his plate. _Ridiculous. Not like Suits care._ But she did care. At least, she cared enough to not let them die, and that was more than a lot of other people. The longer he thought about it, the more he lost his appetite. He got up from the table, leaving his plate behind.

“Where are you going?” Sombra asked, puzzled. It wasn’t like him to leave food behind.

“Just... I dunno’. Not feelin’ hungry, I guess. Gonna’ muck around in th’lab a bit. Ta,” he mumbled and walked away. The lab would help clear his mind. He'd find a project to bury himself in. _Maybe make some grenades? Maybe try t'doodle somethin' new?_ Working a regular schedule wasn't necessarily a compulsory thing for the Junkers, but he liked to pretend every now and again that he was just a regular guy with a regular job leading a regular life. Those daydreams typically ended with him remembering that that sort of life was well beyond the realm of possibilities for him. He lost that opportunity the moment he'd hatched his "ingenious" plan to get back into Junkertown. In his mind, the plan was SUPPOSED to work. He wasn't supposed to get banished from the one place where he fit in (relatively speaking). _Such is life an' all that shit._ With eyes gazing at the floor, he hit the switch and the door slid open.

"Good afternoon, Junkrat," Symmetra quietly greeted.

"Holy fuck I forgot y'work here!" he yelped with a start, clutching his chest in surprise. It wasn't as though she jumped out at him, but being lost in his own head had made him oblivious to his surroundings. After a few breaths to get his heartbeat back on course, he noticed she was looking at him with a puzzled expression.

"Sorry. Still ain't used t'people bein' here. Caught me by s'prise," he hastily explained as sweat began to slick between his glove and left palm, "Afternoon!". Why did she have to be there? There he was, trying to think of anything other than Suits and people like them, and who should be in his lab but her?! _Eyes on th'prize, mate. Work! I came here t'work!_ He caught a wheel of his rolling duct-tape-covered stool with the edge of his boot and nudged it towards the side he wanted to sit (which was as far away from her as possible). He plopped down and scooted towards the drawer that held his notebooks. He grabbed out the purple one that was still mostly blank.

"Er, ah... Tryin' find m'pencils," he timidly asked. Symmetra looked up from her tablet screen, stylus in hand.

"Far left drawer," she directed. Junkrat pulled at the handle, and there they all were, perfectly sharpened and organized from smallest to longest. He raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Thanks fer savin' us," Junkrat blurted and then cringed. The words just popped right out, though he still stared into the drawer without looking up. Symmetra's head picked back up.

"I'm sorry?" she asked for clarification.

"I said thanks... Weren't really in th'mood fer dyin'... Got in a bit over m'head... I know y'didn't have t'come get us. Real nice of ya'. So... guess I owe ya one! Next time y'get in a spot, let me an' Hog know an' we'll come bail ya' out, roight?" Junkrat offered. Though the expression of gratitude came out so abruptly and awkwardly, there was a sense of relief hidden within it. Symmetra's gold eyes flicked down at the floor before she turned her attention back to the translucent computer screen.

"I don't think that will be necessary... though thank you for the offer," she politely responded, "... and thank you for the gratitude. At least somebody thought I did something right,". The second portion of her response came out more as a mutter, though Junkrat was sure she'd meant for him to hear it. His stool squeaked as he scooted back over with notebook and pencil in hand, and he flicked through the pages until he found one free of any markings.

"Yer, ah... Yer boss get mad atcha'? Y'know, fer not followin' orders?". Symmetra paused, sat her stylus down on the tabletop, and laced her fingers. She rested her chin on top and gazed almost into nothingness.

"He was not pleased, though I will not be facing any disciplinary actions," she answered. _Disciplinary actions? He yer boss or her dad?_ The whole situation was ridiculous. Why fault someone for trying to save someone else?

"Well, fer what it's worth, I kinda' like livin' an' all. Plus, kinda' fun, when I think about it. You were like some sorta' super spy... no! Superhero! Dropped down outta' th'sky an' saved us all while in a blue costume with future alien technology! I thought it was brilliant, t'be honest," he grinned. Why not lighten the mood at least a little? And it was brilliant. There was no denying that.

"A superhero? The thought is gratifying," she quietly replied, and then followed it up with a soft smile. Junkrat nearly missed it, but it was definitely there. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied as her mouth tugged upward into a smooth concave line, and a slight warmth graced her. Junkrat's cheeks grew hot, and he went back to focusing on his notebook. At least, he tried to.

An hour ticked by, and his brain remained just as scrambled with disjointed thoughts and memories. No ideas were coming his way. Nothing of use was happening in his brain. Every time he'd hone in on something (even if it was just a scribble of a particular shape he wanted to work with) her face would pop up in his head. Her smile. That fierce look when she landed on the tile behind him and Hog. The small yet distinctive face of pride as he remarked upon her abilities. They'd known each other for three whole days, but already he knew what as happening. She was becoming a distraction. He closed his notebook and was prepared to leave right then and there when he looked back over at her. A small shimmering city gleamed upon the tabletop. Towering skyscrapers intermingled with buildings of distinguished shapes. The whole of her diorama was so futuristic and clean.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, "Look at that!". He stared transfixed at whatever it was she was working on. Symmetra fiddled with the final touches on a spiraling tower from her palm. The wireframe construct solidified, turning into a three-dimensional object.

"Thank you," she noted while never breaking concentration. Junkrat slowly came to the realization that she wasn't going to expand upon the subject further without some coaxing.

"That somethin' you're workin' on fer yer boss?" he tried. She shook her head no while resizing a smooth domed building.

"This is a personal project. I build to relax," she explained. He ignored his notebook entirely and watched her create for nearly fifteen minutes. Her city expanded as new designs came forward. Junkrat tapped his foot on the floor in a steady beat. The blue light emanating from the center of it all illuminated her face; the straight line of her nose, the long lashes that hid metallic eyes, the sharp peaks of her eyebrows.

"Whatcha' buildin' then?". Symmetra slowly rotated the entire project on its base to see it from all sides.

"A better world,".


	4. Ch 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symmetra prepares for a mission to Paris, and makes some discoveries about Junkrat along the way. Perhaps there's more to the Junkers than she expected.

The mission to Paris wasn't for another week, and Symmetra was rather thankful for the delay. She was surprised when Akande told them it'd be nearly a month before their next venture out, but that only gave her more time to prepare and prevent another near-catastrophe from occurring. She had poured over both her instructions as well as the Junkers'. She breathed a sigh of relief when she noticed that their responsibilities were to simply watch the ship while foot soldiers led by Sombra infiltrated Lucheng's secondary facility. The other half of the team would be meeting up with Talon investors the following evening, and in this, Symmetra was given special instructions.

"I will not be able to attend the charity dinner as I had originally hoped, so I'll need you to be my stand-in," Sanjay had explained earlier that morning. He was asking her to be Vishkar's representative at a formal event. It wouldn't be the first time she attended a party of that nature, but this would be the first time she'd do it solo. Perhaps Sanjay had forgiven her from the debacle at Li-Jiang Tower, or perhaps it was another test. She smiled confidently to herself. If the latter were the case, then she needn't worry. She knew how to handle herself at parties. Her memory drifted back to the awkwardness of her secondary and university education; dormitories stuffed to the gills with teenagers trying to either get her to drink or convince her to let them paw at her body. _Events of a professional nature, anyway._

She leaned over the electric kettle and carefully poured hot water into two mugs; a delicate floral white tea for her, and a bold black tea with cream and sugar for her coworker. Three weeks sharing a lab led to a somewhat pleasant acquaintanceship. She wouldn’t necessarily call him a friend, but Junkrat was a surprising character. He had quite a sunny disposition for a person carrying a multi-million dollar bounty, and while he wasn’t as quiet as she’d like, some of his noise was snippets of small talk that she didn’t mind partaking in. He remarked that she always had a mug of tea at her desk, which led to a discussion of their favorites, which was how she knew what he preferred. Why not bring him a cup, and save him the trip?

Sym carefully shifted the two white mugs to her left hand, and swiped her badge through the lock with her right. The door opened to... yet another mess. Well, it wasn’t the first time in the past 21 days that she arrived at such a view, but that wasn’t an entirely comforting thought. Tools were strewn about the floor. A drop cloth lay askew, and parts were piled unceremoniously in one corner. Junkrat sat on the floor, slumped over a rubber tire clamped upright between two weights. Where he managed to procure so many of the relics was a mystery. Non-hovering vehicles were slowly disappearing; their glory days long gone.

“Junkrat?” she quietly greeted. His face was smooshed against the tread, eyes closed. His breaths came out slow and steady. He wasn’t quite snoring, but the rhythmic purr of deep sleep could be heard. Symmetra bit her bottom lip as she crouched down. Part of her thought it’d be rude to wake him. He was obviously exhausted, but it was still a work day and she couldn’t get anything done with him just sleeping there. It would be awkward.

“Junkrat?” she asked again, giving him a few small nudges at his shoulder. His thick eyebrows raised, though his eyes were still closed.

“Figh m’r minniz Hog. Tired,” he mumbled, not quite conscious. Sym continued to shake his shoulder.

“You need to wake up, Junkrat,” she tried.

“Why’d uhwunna bake a cake up? Ain’t m’birfday,” he mumbled some more, and Symmetra couldn’t help but smirk at his absurdity.

“I have tea,” she offered, hoping it’d work.

“Why didn y’say so?” he grinned before slowly opening his eyes. It took him a solid ten seconds to register where he was, who was standing in front of him, and why that shouldn’t have been the case.

"Shit! Why'm I here?" he muttered.

"I'm afraid only you know the answer to that," she replied, and handed his mug over to him, "Though I feel this will help,". He grabbed it and stared into its contents for a moment before taking a sip.

"Oh, that's a lovely thing, innit?" he said between slurps and hummed a bit of a thank you while nodding his head her way. He let out a satisfied exhale before standing up and looking around the lab. It was then Symmetra noticed the markings on his face. The treads and grooves were perfectly embossed on the side of his face and down his red cheek. As though he could feel her eyes sweeping over him, he turned his head to look into the polished glass of a cabinet and chuckled at his own reflection.

"I must say, Junkrat. You truly do look _tired_ this morning," she remarked, internally smiling at what she thought was a clever joke. A snort erupted from her workmate.

"Tha's a good one, Sym!" he admitted and squatted back down to gauge his progress prior to his impromptu nap. A lopsided frown graced his face.

"Fittin' though. Feel like I been run over. Woke up last night, an' couldn't go back t'sleep, so I decided t'get work done. Didn't do all that much though,". Symmetra began to nudge the drop cloth over with her foot, and saw a blue band of painters tape stuck to the floor. A stripe had been placed, running the entire length of the lab.

"What's this for?" she asked. Junkrat tugged at the hem of his scrubby t-shirt (which he seemed to wear only when the notion struck him). A bit of nervousness tinged his cheeks and nose pink.

"Oh! Sorry. That's fer me. Well, you too, but mostly me," he started. There was no doubt about it. Her coworker was flustered. Had she struck a nerve? She hadn't intended to. She waited for him to explain.

"I got my own ways of doin' things, roight? Work best when I got everything spread out. But you don't like it. Like yer space neat an' tidy. Everythin' put away in its nice little spot. So I put this line down, so we each get a half we can keep how we like!" he piped with an awkward smile on his face. Her eyes flicked towards the piles of parts and scraps that spilled over onto “her side” of the floor.

"Oh!" Junkrat shot, and quickly pushed it all back over, exposing the line, "Well, didn't mean t'fall asleep, y'know? Was gonna' tidy it up for ya'! Yer side, anyway,".

"That is... rather thoughtful of you. Thank you, Junkrat," she replied. It would have been far simpler if he'd just learn to keep the lab tidy altogether, but as that option seemed incredibly unlikely, she'd make do with his compromise.

"Well, there's a first time for everything I s'pose," he clucked while scratching at his stomach. He downed the rest of his tea in three loud gulps, and sat the mug on the edge of his desk. He once again wheeled over his pitiful duct-tape covered stool and took a seat, leaning back against the edge so he could still chat with her.

"Another RIPtire in the works, I see," she commented, easing into her day with some light conversation. For once, Symmetra didn't have any projects lined up. It was a Friday, her former Vishkar team had just finished up with their last contract for the quarter, and nothing pressing was on her to-do list. She could indulge in a touch of slacking off.

"Yeah. Found a junkyard th'other day when Hog an' I went explorin'. Got a lotta' parts fer next t'nothin'. Turns out no one wants old scrap tires. Figured why not stockpile when I can, yeah?". His brow knit together as he stared at his work-in-progress. Something seemed to be bothering him, but he shrugged it off.

"Thought I might bring a couple along with us next week. What 'bout you? Y'ready fer next week?". Sym paused mid-sip and looked over his pile of parts.

"It's a simple mission. I'll whip up some turrets if need be," she answered.

"Turrets?! You can make turrets?" he asked, his face growing excited. Sym nodded, feeling a touch of pride at his sudden attention. Very few ever complimented her on her work anymore. To her former team members, her abilities were old hat and the new faces at Talon seemed to pay her no mind, but Junkrat's face always lit up whenever she demonstrated her craft. Sometimes it was subtle, but she'd catch him peeking at her models, or sometimes even just her arm. She could at least admit to herself that she found it all a touch flattering.

"Hard light lets me create a multitude of things," she said, and sat her mug back down. Wordlessly she cupped her hands, forming a glowing sphere. As details took shape, it grew less and less transparent. Within seconds, the turret solidified, ready for use.

"Fancy!" Junkrat grinned, "You thinkin' we're gonna' need all this?". He swept his hand out, motioning to both the mess that was his mid-progress RIPtire as well as the metallic sphere resting on her desk. Symmetra ran the tip of her finger around the familiar pattern of her creation in thought.

"I certainly hope not, but "Safety first", I suppose,".

 

**.                .               .             .              .**

 

The week finally came, and before she knew it she was on Sombra's plane bound for France. She'd been there many times, courtesy of Vishkar, and a small part of her was excited to return. She only wished it didn't require tactical gear and the worry of a possible attack. Paris was one of the few places where her after-hours skills were never utilized. Sadly, her track record for that had to be broken.

In a way, it was convenient. She'd be heading there any way to be Sanjay's stand-in the following evening, so why not pose as an extra layer of protection for Talon's vessels? The small crew of soldiers exited a secondary ship where Sombra caught up with them. Akande, Reaper, Lacroix and Doctor O'Deorain followed behind them, hopping in some flashy luxury car. Symmetra's suitcase was packed into their trunk. She'd meet them at the hotel after her part of the mission was over, but for the time-being, it was just her, Junkrat, and Roadhog.

"Yeesh. There goes the Dodgy Club," she heard Junkrat mutter to himself as he pulled a crude sort of bear trap out of a brown canvas bag. It opened and closed like a mouth with the snap of his hand; a rather imposing puppet. A grin broke out over his face as he looked at it.

"You have been entrusted with the safety of the ship. Do not disappoint us," he rumbled in a deep raspy voice, all while opening and closing the make-shift mouth; his attempt at impersonating Reaper.

"Don't be a git," Roadhog rumbled back. Her lab partner was in a playful mood, it seemed. He flicked his wrist so the maw grinned at her nearly as much as its operator.

"Oi! Lady! Gimme' some'a yer tasty turrets! I'm hungry!" the mouth told her. The flight had been dull (even by her standards), and there was something about his impishness that felt almost contagious.

"Hello, I'm Hungry. My name is Symmetra," she quietly replied, and a small smirk tugged at her face as her attempt at humor took a moment to set in. Junkrat's brow furrowed in contemplation. The black pools of Roadhog's mask swept over her. A moment later, the silence was broken with a giddy cackle and a deep wheezing sigh.

"Don't encourage 'im," Roadhog huffed. Focusing back on set-up, she hoisted herself atop the roof of the craft with a quickly-made set of steps. From there she scanned the horizon, and prepared herself for her duties as sentry.

"Whatcha' doin' up there, Sym?" Junkrat hollered. She cringed at the volume of his voice.

"My job, Junkrat, and please lower your volume," she asked, hoping her tone would come off as polite.

"Oh! Yeah, alright," he said, sounding rather dejected. She shook her head. He still had a long way to go in learning stealth-tactics, and she supposed she couldn't fault him for being assigned to a job he was obviously ill-suited for. She busied herself with placing a few turrets on the wings and in key spots where intruders wouldn't be able to see. She settled herself down, enjoying the view of the Parisian skyline far off in the distance. With assistance from her headset, she could make out the shape of the Eiffel Tower cutting through the gloom of night.

"Don't look like much from here," Junkrat chattered to Hog, his volume somewhat lower, "But, I bet it's proper gorgeous when y'get there. How come we never gone?". She'd read in their files that they'd traveled quite extensively, though she'd only glanced at their list of locations.

"We did. Stole that paintin' from that glass pyramid place," Roadhog reminded.

"Oh yeah..." Junkrat murmured, and as she peered over the edge of the plane to spot him, a wistful dreamy sort of look came over the Junker.

"You! You stole a painting from the Louvre?! ... and somehow forgot about it?!" Sym stammered, incredulous. The duo looked back up at her.

"Stole a lotta' paintin's, love! Can't remember all of 'em. Fetch a pretty penny if y'know somebody willin' t'buy," he chuckled. She ignored his term of endearment for the moment.

 "You got one y'want?". The question came so out of the blue that she did an actual double-take.

"I beg your pardon?!" she asked. _He can't possibly be serious._

"I'm bein' serious! There a paintin' y'like? Could pop down there t'morrow. Nick y'one!". He never lost his smile, nor his sense of sincerity.

"I... You... No. I will not have you... break the LAW and steal a priceless piece of history for my own personal satisfaction!" Symmetra huffed. The smile vanished from his face, and his nose wrinkled.

"What's th'law got t'do with this?" he grumbled.

"I'm better than that," she snipped. Junkrat frowned, and even Roadhog let out a grunt.

"You're sittin' pretty on toppa' that plane that flew here illegally filled with thieves an' felons who're currently thievin' an' felonin' at some place they ain't s'pose t'be, an' you even go slinkin' round from time t'time doin' stuff you ain't s'pose ta', so why's this different?" he countered. Symmetra was not prepared for that kind of response. She opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut. She paused again, and folded her arms.

"I don't do what I do for personal gain. I do it knowing that the ends will justify the means," she parried. Junkrat shrugged.

"If that's what y'gotta' tell yerself, I guess. I was just tryin' t'be nice, y'know. Thought a paintin' in th'lab'd look nice, yeah?". Sym let out an exasperated sigh. Intentional or no, he'd struck a nerve, and she didn't want to continue their conversation.

 "I prefer fewer distractions in my workspace," she said with a sense of finality towards the subject. He didn't press her further, and returned to whatever it was he and Roadhog were doing. _Eyes open. Watch the ship. That's all I have to do._

The Junkers grew bored almost instantly. They talked in low voices, though she assumed it had more to do with keeping her out of the conversation over exercising discretion. An hour passed by, followed by another. Lacroix had mentioned at their briefing that it would probably take a while for the infiltration team to complete their objective, and so she didn't worry as the uneventful minutes ticked by. Her stomach gave a small growl, which she also chose to ignore.

"You hungry?" Junkrat asked, finally breaking the silence again. _There is no way he could have possibly heard that._ She peeked over the edge of the plane again, and saw that the pair had a tattered blanket stretched out on the grass. Hog pulled out a few items wrapped up in wax paper from a black drawstring bag. Junkrat ripped open a bag of crisps with his teeth.

"Are you... having a picnic?!" she stammered, once again incredulous.

"That against th'law too?". His eyebrows were raised, possibly in a challenge.

"We're on duty," she reminded him. Roadhog shrugged.

"Don't mean we can't look while we eat," the giant reasoned. One of the packs was unwrapped to reveal a stack of sandwiches. Junkrat pulled out an apple and flipped it up in the air before catching it again. _Well... No. I shouldn't. One of us should at least act like an adult around here. I really shouldn't._ Her stomach growled more at the sight of the food. _...dammit..._ She climbed back down the plane, and sat upon the last vacant corner of the blanket. She smoothed the blue fabric of her uniform, and folded her hands in her lap.

"Thank you for the invitation," she started, "What is on the menu?".

"Turkey, tuna, an' chicken," Hog informed, pointing at the three different types of sandwiches.

"Got some apples an' granola shit that looks like bird food," Junkrat added, apparently not worried about spoiling her appetite while describing their offerings.

"And the crisps?" she asked, her eyes flicking to the bag. The logo was surrounded by flames and chili peppers, and Junkrat smirked.

"These are fer me. My own personal stash, as it were. Ain't met anyone else man 'nough t'try these beauties without cryin'. Made with real honest t'goodness Indonesian insanity peppers!" he boasted. Hog shook his head, clearly not a fan of them. It was Sym's turn to raise an eyebrow and gave a haughty little chuckle. _You have no idea, do you?_

"I accept your challenge," she said, and he tilted the bag her way after popping one in his own mouth for demonstration. She could see a little glisten of a tear in the corner of his eye, and he sniffled a touch. She reached in, and plucked a crisp that practically glowed a fiery red. Junkrat's eyes flicked over to Hog, anticipating some form of entertainment to commence. She popped it into her mouth, and crunched away.

"Tangy, with a smoky undertone," she noted, and grabbed a few more, "Yes, these will suffice,". Junkrat's jaw dropped. Roadhog looked down at his friend and chuckled.

"I apologize for not being man enough for these, but I was woman enough, and I figured that had to count for something,". Junkrat laughed at her joke. It was surprising. She’d pegged him for the crude sort of man who’d take her response personally as a slight towards his masculinity, but he merely went along with it. Symmetra selected the chicken sandwich and one of the apples from the pile inside the bag. Roadhog had raided a refrigerator of leftovers from the kitchen just before takeoff, as well as a couple of cupboards, which was why the food was such familiar fair. Something proved to be better than nothing and the extra calories renewed energy and vigor.

“Yo Symmetra! We’re just about wrapped over here!” Sombra’s voice cut through her headset, snapping her to attention.

“Oh! Yes! Yes I hear you! Do you have an ETA?” she enquired after activating her mic.

“See, that’s the thing. Actually bringing back some tech. Found something for Moira that we didn’t expect to find. Going to take a little longer to pack up. Probably an.... hour, I’d say,” Sombra informed. Sym raised her eyebrows, curiosity piqued.

“An hour it is then,”. Sombra signed off, allowing her to return to her late-night snack with her unlikely companions.

“The night’s nearly over, but it will be a little while before we actually leave,” she informed the Junker duo. With the wrappers of the pilfered meal disposed of, the small team went back to pretending to do their work. Symmetra admitted to herself that she was indeed bored. She had no interest in wasting time on her tablet, but she wanted to do... something. _What do I even do for fun anymore?_ Work often overtook her social life, so her plans were sporadic at best. She wasn’t much of a television person, either. Back at university, she’d joined the chess club, and she enjoyed that immensely _. I live in a communal space with dorm rooms, groups of people, and access to a cafeteria. It truly is like I’m nineteen again..._ Her eyes drifted over towards the Junkers, and she began to wonder.

“Would either of you be interested in a game, perhaps?” she offered. Junkrat looked over his shoulder; a little smoke bomb in one hand, and a book of matches in the other.

“Thought we had t’keep at attention,” Junkrat countered.

“They’re on their way back. You’ve got traps down. I have turrets. I think we could possibly take a moment,”. Junkrat scratched at his chin, Roadhog tugged a little at his belt to hoist his camouflage pants back up, and then they finally reached a conclusion.

“What sorta’ game?” Roadhog wondered. Symmetra began to form the familiar board, checkered in blue and white.

“Are either of you familiar with chess?”. She sculpted the pieces from memory, and carefully crouched back to a seated position upon the picnic blanket. She sat the board in front of her. It was a gamble. Neither of the Junkers struck her as fans of the game, but chess was such a standing classic. Perhaps she’d luck out.

“Yeah... I think... Wait! Yeah! Yeah! I got this one! Played it a few times, right Hog?” he assured, looking over his shoulder at his friend for confirmation. Hog nodded.

“At th’bar. Back in Sydney,” Roadhog also confirmed.

“You seem a bit unsure. Do you need a refresher?” Sym offered. Junkrat stared at the board as he crouched down to join her.

“No. No, I got it. Need a bit though. Some’a these wires up here short out from time t’time... These guys move this way,” Junkrat explained while tapping his head. Roadhog plopped down with a great thud on the grass underneath him, and silently observed. After a couple minutes of staring and pondering, the rules came back to Junkrat.

“Are you ready to play?”.

“Yeah! Yeah, I think so,” he replied, but his hand shot up, “Wait! Wait! ... can y’make my pieces orange?”. The request was absurd, and Symmetra let out a sound that was almost a chuckle.

“Yes, Junkrat. I can recolor them for you,” she acquiesced, and with a touch of her fingers, everything white transitioned to a bright glowing shade of orange.

The game started, and Symmetra went first with a pawn. Junkrat quickly moved one of his with barely a thought. She moved another piece, and his hand whipped out right after. Slowly the game grew more complex and required more thought with each move, but Junkrat would simply throw caution to the wind and reposition a piece with barely a moment of hesitation. He played rather recklessly, and soon a pile of his pieces built up next to her. She sighed to herself. _I don’t know what I was expecting._

“Junkrat. This is a game of contemplation and strategy. You can take as long as you wish to make your moves,” she commented.

“Yeah? Well sometimes strategy goes out th’window in real life. Think about it. This is my army, roight? And suddenly here come your guys chargin’ at me. I don’t get time t’think. Just gotta’ charge ahead, an’ hope fer th’best,” he explained.

“This game isn’t real life. You can enjoy thinking up a plan of attack,” she reminded while moving her knight to take out one of his pawns. Another one of his sly grins made his face practically glow, and her eyes lingered on the shadows of freckles that she could just make out courtesy of the illuminated board. His hand whipped out. Fingertips sporting black painted nails snagged an orange bishop, and swapped it with her blue king.

“Checkmate, mate!” he said while wiggling the hard light piece between his thumb and index finger. Completely shocked, Symmetra looked back and forth between him and the chessboard.

“You left that entirely up to chance!” she accused. Junkrat acknowledged that he had with a little tilt and nod of his head.

“Chance is usually all I got,”.


	5. Ch 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat and Roadhog get roped into chauffeur duty for Sym and the Talon crew. Sym is busy trying to impress Moira to get her foot in the door with Oasis. Moira takes a shine to the architech, and Sombra sneaks off to steal some food.

"Sooooooo, here's the thing. There isn't any room for you two on the ship," Sombra explained. Junkrat’s slouched shoulders suddenly straightened.

"Whatta' y'mean?!" he growled. Were he and Hog going to be left behind? He grimaced at her announcement.

"Oh! No no no, don't freak out, Toasty! It's cool! We just didn't expect to find all this equipment. We only saw Lucheng's preliminary sketches. We didn't know they'd actually gone through with building them. Moira's gonna' practically shit herself when she sees it,".

"I will be doing no such thing, though yes, I am pleased," suddenly came the voice of the doctor as she reformed from a black misty cloud to stand in front of them. Sombra and the two Junkers yelped, and Junkrat leaped up into Hog's arms like something out of a cartoon. Moira let out a throaty laugh.

"Apologies for the fright. Now, if you'll excuse me," she said, and the willowy woman once again evaporated before condensing at the loading ramp. She looked over the sleek equipment excitedly; a child receiving the gift she'd always wanted.

"Look, it's no offense, but you and Chicaron take up a lot of room and you're technically not soldiers. Sooooooooo, you'll have to stay back here for the night and fly back with the rest of us tomorrow," Sombra explained. Neither of the Junkers took offense. It wasn't like they had anything pressing going on back in Brazil. _'Sides! Wouldn't mind seein' th'city again. Don't remember much of it._

"We sleepin' in yer ship then?" Roadhog asked. Sombra looked back at it and grinned.

"Well, you were at first, but I did a little bit of poking around and got you all set up at our hotel. Don't say I never did anything nice for you," she answered as she examined her nails nonchalantly. 

"Oo! Fancy French hotel? Sounds like a good time, right Hog?" Junkrat smiled while nudging his bodyguard with his elbow.

"Only got one room though. So you'll have to bunk together," Sombra warned. The Junkers merely shrugged it off. Bunking together was business as usual. Hog would take the bed, and he'd take the couch or floor. 

"I understand they are to ride back with us?" Symmetra asked as she stepped closer towards them.

"Yeah. Think we got the room since it's just us and Moira," Sombra assured.

"She said she'll be ready in a few minutes, and I... Oh! Oh, I just realized something," Symmetra started as she looked around the group, "The vehicle we have will not fit all of us for tomorrow night. I don't think they knew I would be coming along when they made ride arrangements. It was very last minute, and there certainly won't be room for two more to return to the plane,". Sombra rubbed her chin as she gauged the seating situation.

"I could boost one for ya. Me 'n Hog, I mean," Junkrat offered. Cars were easy enough to swipe, and they'd stolen enough to know how to cover their tracks. Symmetra slightly scowled at his idea, but he merely shrugged it off. Apparently, their conversation from earlier in the evening hadn't made a difference. _So what if we nick a car? Ain't gonna' hurt no one. 'Sides, owner can always just get a new one._

"Eh, not a terrible idea. There'll be plenty of nice ones the closer we get to downtown... Wait! I got something that'll make it easier!" Sombra shot and blipped away. She returned in a moment, reappearing in front of them while holding something that looked like a key fob.

"This right here? Stuns any car's security system. Doesn't open the locks, but at least you'll be able to pop it open and start it up the old-fashioned way," she said while dropping the black metal keyring into his hand. The device hanging off of it appeared to be a pixilated sugar skull. Before he could say a word, Moira gave a sharp whistle and waved them towards the car she'd driven up in.

“Get in or I’m leaving without you,” she joked as she hopped into the driver’s seat. At least, Junkrat hoped she was joking. It was somewhat hard to tell. After quickly shoving their own packs into the trunk, the Junkers climbed into the back seat, where Roadhog had to squeeze in and hunch. He grunted; perturbed with his situation. None of the other spots were any better, and he suffered in relative silence. Junkrat popped in next to him. Sombra had already buckled herself into the other front seat, leaving Symmetra with only one option. She quickly climbed in and clicked her own buckle. 

“You need to strap in, Junkrat. Safet-,”.

“Saftey first. Right right,” he repeated, having noticed it was a phrase she came back to regularly. Moira turned the key, the engine started, and the vehicle sped away, heading closer and closer towards the city of lights.

The first thing that Junkrat noticed was that he suddenly felt awkward. Sandwiched between Roadhog on one side, and Symmetra on the other, he became acutely aware of physical sensations that he typically ignored. Symmetra, still in her blue uniform, was pressed up against him. The exposed portion of her upper thigh didn’t make contact with his own skin, but he swore he could feel heat radiating through the fabric of his shorts. Being so close to her also allowed him to breathe in her perfume; a heady aroma of sweet ripe fruit mingled with spice. _... ridiculous. Like I never sat next to a woman b’fore!_ He had, of course. Multiple times, though this particular situation somehow felt different. He folded his arms in front of him, and closed his eyes for a moment, willing away the sensations. It didn’t help at all. It only seemed to heighten them. To make matters worse, no one was talking, and so he was forced to listen to her steady breaths, and small sighs. Sure! _Now everyone gets awkward an’ clams up!_

His eyes snapped back open and flicked upwards to just find something, ANYTHING, to distract him. His weren’t the only set of wandering eyes. As he gazed up to the review mirror, he saw one blue iris and a red one staring back at someone. That someone was Symmetra. It could have just been coincidence. The woman sitting next to him didn’t seem to notice. She was too busy gazing out the window, her dark hair trailing down her shoulder. When he focused back up to the mirror, Moira’s line of sight had changed. She was staring back at him.

From that point on, Moira's attention was kept to the road ahead. The ride passed agonizingly slow as the occupants remained completely silent. Symmetra seemed fixated upon what was happening outside her window, Hog was too squished to talk (not that he ever said that much), and Sombra was occupying herself by reading and frowning as she scrolled through emails on her holographic handset. Junkrat buried himself in his own head. What was with Moira's stares? What was her angle? A tiny voice told him maybe he was thinking too much into things. _What's it even matter?_ He hated feeling off. With much relief, the eerily tranquil ride came to an end.

“Get a car big enough for Hog. He looked so sad all crammed in the back,” Sombra suggested.

“He wears a mask. How can you tell?” Symmetra remarked, to which Roadhog let out a snort of laughter. It was a deep rumbling laugh; one Junkrat was beginning to hear on a more frequent basis. Having a stable base of operations was as comforting to his portly friend as it was to him.

“You can see it in the eyes,” Sombra winked.

“Practically an open book,” Hog grunted in agreement. 

“Are you lot just going to stand around all night?” Moira interrupted. She held the keys to their current ride up in the air. Symmetra grimaced as though the reprimand was targeted solely at her, and Junkrat rolled his eyes. _Bet she’s never got in trouble her entire life! Well... not like that, anyway._

“C’mon, Hog. Time t’find ya’ somethin’ nice,” he grinned, and reached for the keys in Moira’s hand. She pulled back sharply, and her heterochromatic eyes locked onto him. He didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed it before, but the doctor was a rather imposing figure. She stood over him, and he instinctively fixed his posture until they looked each other face to face. She was as tall as him, which was rare enough for anyone, let alone a woman. Her thin lips may have been smiling, but it was most definitely a false one. Her gaze swept over him.

“If you two manage to draw attention to yourselves, don’t you dare bring it back here, you understand me?” she murmured. Junkrat frowned, and his eyebrows came together.  
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Doc,” he assured, matching her cold stare with his own. The stand-off ended when she reluctantly dropped them into his gloved palm. He snapped them up and gave them a confident little jingle.

“Have a good night, ladies!” Junkrat smiled while waving goodbye. Sombra gave a little flick of her wrist to signal her own farewell. 

“Have a good night, gentlemen,” Symmetra politely returned. Of all the people he’d ever come in contact with, she was the only one to consistently utilize proper etiquette. At first, it had annoyed him. It came off as so... Suitey, but the longer they’d worked together, the more he realized and accepted that it was just her own mannerism. Hog had said that in Suite-talk, it was referred to as “professionalism”. She spoke to him that way because she thought of him as a work-peer. Junkrat hated professionalism himself, but there was something flattering about being treated as, well, a professional. It was nice to have someone calling him “sir” without immediately following it up with “stop that!”. Moira certainly didn’t think much of him and Hog though. He backed up towards the car, where Hog waited to cram himself back in. Sombra had already passed through the back door of the hotel, leaving everyone else in the dark alley.

“What was that all about? B’tween you an’ th’doc?” Roadhog quietly rumbled. It was a little validating knowing that his bodyguard had noticed it too.

“I dunno’, mate,” he quietly whispered back as he climbed into the driver’s seat. He looked back over at his workmate and the geneticist.

“Here’s your room key, Miss Vaswani. You’re across the hall from me. I’ll show you the way, if you’ll allow me,” Moira offered. Her stern face once again gave way to a smile, though this one was warmer and more genuine. She pushed the metal bar, allowing them entrance into the hotel. Symmetra gave a nod of thanks and stepped through the open door. Moira followed right behind her, ushering her along. Junkrat’s eyebrows knit together as he watched the glass door swing shut behind them.

“Think I’m startin’ t’figure it out, though,”.

_A car. A car. Focus on a car._ They needed something big, and somehow someplace dark. Stealing a car was a relatively simple process for him most times, but this one had stipulations attached. If they had the Mayhem Mobile, no worries. Hog could have comfortably ridden the bike with him in the sidecar, allowing Rat to pick whichever car he pleased. Hog would ride behind, keeping attention off the stolen vehicle. Junkrat reminisced about a few close calls in London. _London sure was a wild ride._

"The City of Lights" wasn't just a clever name. It took nearly an hour of aimless meandering through busy streets until they managed to find an alley that might work. It backed up near a nightclub, and he figured they'd luck out on finding some sort of ridiculous means of compensation parked nearby. Junkrat parked and killed the lights. The music from the nightclub pounded too loudly for anyone to notice the noise as the clambered out of the sleek luxury vehicle. Junkrat reached into a pouch and readied his set of tools.   
His hunch had been correct. He rounded a corner, only to find a metered carpark. He looked around, finally finding a few viable options. Hog stopped, pointed with a thick finger, and gave a grunt of approval. The "car" appeared to be more akin to a Humvee. What the ridiculous thing was doing outside of Junkertown (or possibly the United States) was a mystery. At least it looked sleek and polished. This was someone's "stylish" ride; not to be used for its intended purpose. He grinned to himself as he imagined doing donuts in a mud pit. _Maybe spin out a little! Get th'girl proper dirty! heh heh... Christ, that sounds fucked up fer some reason._

"Ain't really subtle, but it's you, mate!" Junkrat grinned. He knew the score and started by disabling security with Sombra's device. From there, he jimmied the door open and popped the panel towards control circuitry. 

"Rat, hurry up. Can hear that club music. It's shit," Roadhog rushed. 

"Ain't so bad after a few drinks. Makes me wanna' dance," he muttered back as he snipped a cord. Navigation was disabled. The car was under emergency manual control.

"Switch plates," Junkrat reminded. He slipped his hand into the tool pouch and tossed a screwdriver to Hog. After removing the license plate, he thumped off to swap out with another. A moment later, he came back, replacing it completely. Rat placed the panel covering back up, and pushed the button for ignition. The mini tank revved to life, and Junkrat gave a little chuckle of excitement. He flashed his friend a devious grin.

"Whole lotta' machine here. You sure you can handle it?". Roghog reached up, grabbed him by his empty grenade harness, and yanked him out of the driver's seat. He dropped him on the ground like a sack.

"Gonna' come 'round. Follow me back," his friend said, with a touch of warning and annoyance mixed within. Junkrat stood up and dusted himself off, grinning the entire time (but internally grimacing from what felt like a shattered pelvis). Junkrat got a head start and hopped into his considerably modest car. _All this drivin'... Might as well be a_ _chauffeur!_

 

**.           .           .           .           .**

 

"Aw, isn't that sweet? All curled up dreaming about explosions!".

"JESUS CHRIST!" Junkrat yelped. First, he was sleeping, enjoying a hazy dream involving a wrestling pit full of vanilla custard and possibly some bikini-clad women, and then his eyes snapped open to see Sombra's bratty little smile only a mere inch from him! She chuckled and reached up to poke the tip of his nose.

"Boop!" she giggled.

"Calm yer tits, mate," Hog told him as he nudged Sombra away from the couch. Junkrat sat up on the plush damask sofa and kicked the minty green blanket off of him with his single foot. Sombra busied herself by examining his rusty arm he'd left on the marble table. Junkrat could smell something pleasant. It was breakfast: croissants, fresh fruit, beautifully prepared omelets, sausages, and coffee. 

"Wuz all this?" he asked, waving over the spread of trays taking up the top of the dinette table, desk, and stacked on the left-behind cart. 

"Feelin' peckish," was the only answer his friend would oblige him with. Hog was (understandably) a man of immense appetite, though Junkrat was no slouch himself. He just somehow managed to burn through every spare calorie in his body at near-hummingbird speed. 

"So yeah. Didn't come here just to wake you two up. Got a question for you both," Sombra started while handing him his arm to reattach, "You two ever play chauffeur?". Junkrat clamped down the last lock and tested his fingers out with a little wiggle. Everything moved as it should have. He and his partner glanced at each other, and Junkrat could almost feel Roadhog raise his eyebrows as much as he had.

"Not really, but if yer payin' we can make it happen," he answered. 

"Oh, no no no. You don't understand," Sombra said, and reached for the metal coffee pot on the table, "You don't get a choice in this. Boss said it's happening. He wants security on the cars,". She sipped at her full mug, and let out a sigh of enjoyment. Junkrat wasn't fully awake, and his sleep-muddled brain didn't quite grasp what she was saying.

"It was just meant as rhetorical. You're going to be our rides tonight. I'm in charge of making you presentable. So, just gonna take your measurements... Don't worry, Hog. I know a guy who makes stuff your size," she informed. Their wake-up call merely ran a scanner over them, and it recorded every detail of their frames and stature. She immediately tacked away at her handset. 

"Just gotta' pick 'em up in a few hours. Tonight, you're in charge of driving us to Max's party... Don't worry about Max. Old friend. Anyway, Boss wants you two to stick by the cars. Still got some people not on board since he took back over," she rambled. She continued to explain (as she snitched a croissant and spread a layer of jam on it) that Akande's instructions were to be ready to respond whenever they get a call and do whatever he instructed. Boring work, but they'd been given permission to keep some weaponry in the trunk, just in case. Junkrat (provided he kept them safely stored) was allowed a small collection of explosives, a snap trap, and his frag-launcher. Roadhog could bring his hook and shotgun. More security detail, but he didn't mind the work. It was nice to have something to guard. _Well... somethin' else t'guard._

It wasn't long before Sombra ran off to do whatever it was that Sombra even did, leaving Rat and Hog to their room service breakfast. They watched some television, though that didn't last long due to the language barrier. Hog mentioned something about wanting to wash up, and while Rat didn't see the point (he already showered two days ago, and that seemed like more than enough for one week), he figured he should also make the effort for his friends' sake.

He scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed himself pink. He didn't have a choice in the soaps; making due with what the hotel had available. At least posh hotels like theirs had better quality stuff. The glass stall had several shower heads aimed at different angles. He never thought he'd experience luxury in his Junkertown days, but there he stood with hot water beating down, clean, well-rested and full. It was definitely worth a painfully boring chauffeur gig.

 

**.           .           .           .           .**

 

"C'mon Amelie! We're going to be late!" Sombra whined.

"Eat shit," came Amelie's monotone voice. She briskly walked down the hall towards the elevator, with Moira only a step ahead of her. 

"Somehow I doubt our host will mind a little tardiness... Vaswani! I'm a fan of your look. I don't think I've ever seen you in that color," the doctor remarked. Symmetra adjusted the silk draped over her shoulder. Moira wasn't wrong. Magenta was a rather bold color, and not one she typically wore during working hours. Nor did she wear so much jewelry on a day-to-day basis. Gold bangles circled her wrist. A chain hung between her earring and nose. The jeweled necklace she wore lay perfectly around the base of her long neck.

"Thank you, Doctor O'Deorain. I rarely get an opportunity to dress this formally these days," she replied. The event was black-tie, and her new acquaintances had also dressed accordingly. Sombra wore a spunky little tiger-striped dress in varying shades of aqua-blue and violet. On anyone else, it would have looked downright tacky, but it seemed to work well for her. Amelie stuck with a simple black gown with most of her back exposed, Sym could make out the familiar black spider tattoo. Lacroix's extensive amount of ink did nothing to detract from her graceful stride, nor the elegant way in which she carried herself. Though she knew she'd never be able to subject herself to a tattoo artist, she found the art fascinating, and at times beautiful. _Maybe someday, a little one that's easy to hide._ She internally smiled at her rebellious daydream.

"No need to be formal. Moira is fine,". The doctor stood tall, as always. Her dark emerald velvet jacket hung low with no blouse on underneath. Her matching slacks clung to her long legs, ending in tasteful black flats. Moira even went so far as to throw on a subtle splash of lipstick and eyeshadow. _There's no way I could ever pull off that look._ The elevator came to a halt on the ground floor, and they crossed the back of the lobby to exit through the back door. The cars were ready for them, but their chauffeurs were not.

"No fair! Why d'YOU get th'easy one, an' I got this piece a shit?!" Junkrat barked, sounding rather flummoxed. _Oh my goodness!_ There stood the Junkers both dressed in fine black suits, arguing over neckties! Roadhog looped his pre-assembled bowtie around his neck and clipped it in place. Moira rolled her eyes, and she and Amelie slid off into the shadows to wait for the other two members of their party. 

"Only one that'll fit," Hog grunted. Junkrat examined the uneven length of silk and draped it around his neck, not entirely sure what to do next.

"Do you require assistance?" Sym offered. Junkrat spun on his heels, unaware that he and his friend were being watched. Junkrat stood stiff, once again staring at her with mouth agape.

"Rat! You don't know how to tie a tie?" Sombra chuckled. His brow dropped in either annoyance or injured pride.

"N-no. Never had t'wear one, y'know?" he explained. Symmetra supposed that was a legitimate excuse. 

"Help me out, Som?" he asked with pleading eyes focused entirely on the hacker.

"Sorry Toasty. Didn't think about that when I ordered your outfits. I never had to wear one either... What about you, Sym? You know how?". Yes, she did, and she genuinely wanted to help her coworker. Symmetra stood directly in front of him, the tips of her gold flats bumping against his boot.

"I believe I can be of some assistance. I had to wear one with my secondary school uniform,". She grabbed both ends of the silk and adjusted the lengths. Without a word she stood on the balls of her feet and flipped his collar up. It would have been easier if either she'd worn heels or if he weren't so tall, but she made do.

"Are you looking for something simple, classic, or eye-catching?" she asked, as she readied for his answer. She had a few different knots in mind that she used to practice on her roommates. 

"Whatever's fine. Not like anyone's gonna' be lookin' at me, y'know?" he answered. She began working on an Eldridge knot, recalling it as her favorite. She loved the pattern woven into the knot, and how crisp and neatly it would lay.

"I'm looking at you right now, am I not?". Her eyes flicked upwards as her fingers moved from muscle-memory. The sun had just about set, but the touch of gold that lingered illuminated his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and she could see the freckles she never knew he had. A few more observations came to light. If she could see his freckles, that meant he was clean. His hair lay a bit neater than usual. The ends held the tiniest bit of a curl to them, and there was something charming about the little revelation. When her eyes caught his, she noticed something else. Junkrat's cheeks were pink with an intense blush. _I suppose I'd be embarrassed too if I didn't know how to do up even a simple Windsor._ She gave it one last tug before folding down his shirt collar and smoothed his jacket for him.

"Thanks, Sym," he quietly murmured, and his cheeks only grew redder. A glance over revealed an altered jacket sleeve that could accommodate his bulky prosthetic. His slacks had been tailored to be tucked into the joint of his peg leg. Overall, the fit was perfect for him.

"You're welcome, Junkrat," she replied, and paused, "You know, for someone who says he doesn't like suits, you wear them rather well. Perhaps you just need to give them time to grow on you,". Junkrat nervously fiddled with the end of his tie, keeping his eyes cast at the tip of his boot, where she’d bumped toes only a moment prior.

"Guess so," he mumbled. Satisfied with the assistance she gave him, she turned towards Roadhog and motioned him over. He lumbered up and looked down at her.

"Would you mind squatting down, please?". Perhaps he couldn't see the glaring error in his own tie, but it was all she could fixate upon. She still had to stand on her toes to reach the pre-knotted bow and slid it an inch to the left.

"There we are, sir,". Hog huffed something that sounded like thanks and went back to stand near the giant Humvee idling until Reaper and Akande would finally arrive, and it wasn't even a minute later when the pair finally caught up. She knew the event was to be black-tie, and while they did technically follow the dress code, Reaper still kept on a hooded cowl and mask over top. _Perhaps his mask is medically necessary, like Roadhog's._ She'd never asked because she rarely spoke to either one of them beyond their introduction. Perhaps it hid a disfigurement. Or maybe he just felt more safe and comfortable not showing his face. 

With the team finally assembled, they split up. Akande chose the Humvee, as it suited his bulky frame. Reaper chose to ride with him. Symmetra climbed into the back seat of Junkrat's car and was promptly followed by O'Deorain and Lacroix. Sombra hopped in the front seat with their driver.

"Alright, ladies! Buckle up!" Junkrat looked over his shoulder and grinned at his passengers, "Safety first!". _It seems some of what I said is starting to sink in._

The charity dinner was held at a private chateau owned by one of Talon's primary investors; a businessman by the name of Maximilien. She wasn't personally acquainted with him, though she was aware that he and Sanjay had a bit of a rapport. Maximilien was also an Omnic, and her curiosity was piqued, to say the least. Vishkar rarely worked with them, not wanting to ruffle too many feathers among business partners and wary customers. After all, it was the Omnic Crisis that led to their building efforts in the first place. In the business world, one shouldn't be seen "sleeping with the enemy".

The drivers were directed to pull around back and park. Their crew gathered towards the back door, but Sombra busied herself talking with the two who were to stay behind.

"So... how long's this gonna' take?" Junkrat asked.

"I dunno'. It's a party, so probably a while. Get enough billionaires together, and they never want to leave," she tried. Junkrat let out an annoyed sigh.

"Fuck! What're we s'pose t'do, then? Just sit on our asses until you get back?" he whined. 

"Is there a problem?" Akande shot over his shoulder. That shut Junkrat up. He dug his hands into his pockets, eyes cast to the concrete beneath them.

"Nah, mate," he mumbled. 

"Good. Shall we?" he said in warning. Everyone took the hint and started following behind him towards the dark carved backdoors. Symmetra paused for a moment and turned back around. 

"Here," she said, and quickly formed a chess board and pieces for the Junkers, "You can practice some strategies for our next game,". Junkrat took the board from her and examined it.

"Oh! Yeah, sure! Thanks, Sym!" he grinned, and then his eyes darted from side to side.

"Think you can sneak us out some food, too?" he nearly whispered. The idea was absolutely preposterous, but she couldn't help but smirk. He and Hog had been kind enough to share their own meal the night before, and while she didn't like the idea of doing something as tacky as sneaking food in her purse, she supposed she owed them for their generosity. It struck her as something that was a rare occurrence for them.

"I can't make promises, but I'll see what I can do," she whispered back and waved goodnight before running off to catch up with the group. Sombra sidled up right next to her and nudged her in the side with her sharp little elbow.

"Toasty asked for food, didn't he?" she snickered. Sym gave a small nod, not wanting the others to hear. _It would be so unseemly!_

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to feed strays?" Moira chuckled, and her blood suddenly ran cold. _Shit._ She really wished O'Deorain hadn't heard her. She was supposed to build her own rapport with the woman, and shouldn't have risked such unprofessional behavior.

"I'm afraid not. She died when I was young," Symmetra admitted and bit her cheek. She regretted her response there, too. It was far too personal.

"Oh! Oh dear, I do apologize. It wasn’t my intention to be so insensitive," the doctor quickly responded, and Symmetra saw something she'd never seen before. Moira was flustered. _And now we stand in awkwardness..._ Awkward was most definitely an appropriate description of the situation, and she couldn't wait to get inside and enjoy a glass of wine. Perhaps that would clear the gloomy little cloud slowly enveloping their party.

"Akande! Always a pleasure to see you! Reaper, Miss Lacroix,". The voice had an artificial ring to it, and near the marble stairway stood a tall Omnic with glowing red eyes. He held out a metal hand, and shook with her male counterparts, following with a dainty peck upon the back of Amelie's hand. Lacking lips, it was more of a tap. 

"Nice to see you too, Max," Sombra said with a forced smile that read "I know something you don't know".

"Sombra. Hard to miss you in a get-up like that. I trust you'll keep your hands to yourself... and your eyes and ears as well," he replied in warning.

"You didn’t say anything about my nose and tongue. Lucky for me I can still do a lot with those," Sombra winked.

"Don't be crass," Moira scolded, and held her hand out for a shake, "Hello Max. How've you been faring these days?". He gave her extended hand a shake before replying that he was doing well, and that business was booming, despite recent current affairs.

"We can discuss that later of course... Oh! And you must be Miss Vaswani. Korpal told me you'd be taking his place this evening?". Symmetra held her hand out, and as with Lacroix, he gave a gentle kiss in greeting. She'd rather he simply shook her hand. The kiss was far too forward for an introduction and left a cold tingling spot on the top of her knuckle.

"Yes, he required a stand-in. Unexpected business to attend to. Anything you'd ask him, you can ask me," she informed. Max led them further into the building, up several flights of stairs, and into the ballroom. 

She couldn't remember the last time she'd been to a party quite THAT lavish before. She herself made enough money to build a more-than-comfortable lifestyle, but it paled in comparison to the wealth and opulence inside. Max's interior decorating skills were considerable. It was clean and stately but wasn't without tasteful charm. The guests inside hardly seemed to notice, jaded towards details like that. Max began to separate from the group.

"Pardon me, but I need to see to my hosting duties. I'll see you all later, of course," he announced before pulling away in a different direction. There was something in his tone that assured her it would be definite; something planned. 

It was a silent auction with a cocktail hour, followed by sit-down dinner, and live music. She located the nearest waiter; an Omnic in a vest holding a tray of sparkling rose. Those she'd arrived with meandered off into the crowd, greeting familiar faces. She didn't know anyone herself, though was surprised when an older gentleman stopped her for a moment. Apparently he recognized her from the cover of Architech magazine, and frankly, she felt flattered. That article was over a year old. Although, their Editor in Chief later told her it was the most popular issue they sold that year, and that lots of readers said the cover itself stood out most of all. She would know because she was on that cover. She'd admit it was gratifying on a very shallow level... but who couldn't use a little gratification every now and then?

He asked her a few general questions about hardlight, which she answered with a simple demonstration. Feeling satisfied, he let her continue to enjoy the party, and she perused the items up for auction. _Oh. I know someone who'd love this._ She smirked to herself, not realizing the theme of the evening: pre-internet-age technology. Along the edge of the circular room were displays of various prototype computers, the first attempts at cellular communication, simple appliances, and even a few vehicles. The items up for bid had been widely embellished as prize antiquities. The Junkers would have loved it. 

She came to a halt mid-sip when she saw it: the most frivolous useless thing on display. It was a pair of recreational vehicles lovingly referred to as "jet-skis". _How utterly ridiculous._ She smirked to herself and peeked from side to side. No one she knew was standing nearby to see her. She leaned forward and looked at the digital bid-list. Not a single bid for the pair of water-crafts. She shrugged, signed her name, and kicked it off with a bid of five-hundred dollars. She quietly walked away before she could change her mind. Surely, someone else would outbid her, and her little compulsion wouldn't become buyer's remorse.

The cocktail hour wound down, and Symmetra found her assigned seat for dinner. Sanjay had selected his chair very carefully, placing it at a table among several Oasis Ministers. More specifically, next to Doctor O'Deorain. Moira stood nearby the seat that still held a place card with Sanjay's name written upon it. Symmetra bent down and plucked it, crumpling it before shoving it in her purse to dispose of later.

"Vaswani! Allow me," Moira offered and pulled out her chair for her. Symmetra graciously sat, and the doctor pushed her seat back in. 

"Thank you, Doctor," she said in appreciation.

"I told you Moira's fine," Moira corrected. 

Dinner unfolded about as she expected. There was expensive food, and the drinks were unlimited. A few speakers explained that the purpose of the auction was to raise funding for more scientific and historical research currently being conducted in the "City of Knowledge"; Oasis. Much of the table conversation was dominated by Moira and the Minister of Anthropology debating on the ethics involved in cloning and breeding dinosaur embryos.

"I'm saying this concept is ludicrous, Iris! I know you're an anthropologist, but you at least have to remember basic biology! If you clone blood from a mosquito's abdomen, you're just going to get more mosquitos!" she shot.

"Don't patronize me, Moira. You think I don't know how genetics work? I've been elbow-deep in sequence comparison for the past month and a half! It's a movie from nearly a century ago! Of course we all know the science doesn't add up! I'm speaking from a purely philosophical standpoint," Iris hypocritically huffed. Iris looked over the edge of her tortoiseshell glasses, carrying a considerable air of superiority. Symmetra scanned the table, and it appeared that so did everyone else. It seemed a meeting of the minds could still lead to some arrogantly petty banter.

"Philosophy? Shouldn't you be speaking to Mubiru?" Moira chided, glancing over towards the elderly man sitting across from her. 

"I believe they even addressed this very same argument in the film itself, though I believe the overall take-away was that capitalizing upon scientific advancement is inherently wrong," he explained. _And here I thought it was simply a story about dinosaurs wrecking up a theme park with a thin moral of the dangers of playing God._ Moira's eyes rolled, frustrated with the tedious conversation, though Symmetra found it at least a bit entertaining. She took a bite of her chocolate torte, enjoying the mental volleying before her.

"Miss Vaswani! You're an intelligent woman. What do you think of this proposed argument? If we found the means to clone an extinct species and bring it back into existence, would it be our scientific duty to do so, or would we have to label it as 'playing God', and miss out on the opportunity of a lifetime?" Moira asked. Symmetra nearly choked on her bite, caught by surprise. Up until that moment, only the geneticist and anthropologist had been directly involved in the argument. She swallowed and cleared her throat.

"I think if there is the possibility of reviving an extinct species, we would obviously make many discoveries that could potentially advance humanity, and science itself. It would also shed light on the evolutionary process; a field that we've only ever been capable of scratching the surface of. I think it would be worth doing so and hence, in the name of science, our duty. I only see it being unethical if it was merely used for profit,". She was proud of her answer, considering that she wasn't prepared to be involved in the conversation in the first place.

"Ironic," muttered Iris, though she meant for everyone to hear it. Moira's eyes narrowed.

"How's that, dear? Did you say ironic? My hearing isn't the best these days," Moira snipped. The silver-haired Minister wrinkled her nose.

"I find it ironic that someone from Vishkar is the one to lecture about profiting from discovery,". The silence was painful.

"Every creature alive today benefits from the discoveries made by those before them in some fashion. That is the order of things, Minister Iris. I merely meant that a discovery should be utilized to its fullest potential, not solely for monetary gain. As our technology advances, Vishkar's stock does continue to climb, but much of our profits are reinvested in scientific grants and programs, including generous contributions to the university and laboratories in Oasis," Symmetra added. 

"Well said," Moira complimented. Symmetra felt at odds with herself. On one hand, Iris and the other Ministers were not people she wanted to anger. Not if she wanted a foot in the door for Vishkar, anyway. On the other hand, she relished placing the bitch in check, and she'd even managed to impress Moira! _Perhaps it wasn't a bad move after all. And besides, would the world's brightest minds really feel slighted or petty over such a trivial discussion?_ The stare Iris held said "Yes. Yes, she would", and she could tell she was off to a rocky start with the anthropologist.

The look of satisfaction never left Moira's face. She was feeling smug, and Symmetra felt a touch proud that she was the cause. Her tablemate usually appeared so stern back at base that she often came off as cold and intimidating She supposed the same could be said about herself (or rather, she HAD heard it said). But there cold analytical Moira sat, smiling with rosy cheeks. Sym took notice of the few empty glasses surrounding her. _Ah! That would explain the blush._ There was only one word she could think of to describe Moira at that moment; cute. It was so humanizing to see her a few drinks in, having a casual discussion and enjoying herself. What wasn't cute was the sudden sharp jab she felt in her back!

"Pssst! Sym!" Sombra whispered. She was leaning back in her chair, having snuck into an empty seat at the table behind them. Symmetra let out a somewhat stifled sigh of exasperation. Sombra wasn't exactly the kind of person she typically associated with in public. She liked the hacker well enough, but she had "trouble" written all over her and Vishkar had an image to maintain. 

"May I help you?" she whispered back over her shoulder.

"Need your help with something. Join me?" Sombra pleaded. Sym glanced back at her table. The Ministers were back to squabbling, and Moira was gladly participating. Symmetra stood up and politely excused herself. They hardly took notice. They were engrossed in their bickering about the ethics of depicting science and technology realistically in cinema. She made a quiet exit and followed Sombra. She assumed they'd be heading somewhere private; perhaps the restroom. Though Omnics had no need for them, Max's house was hundreds of years old, and he seemed the type to entertain humans often.

Her friend wound through halls, taking her deeper into their host's private home. Wood gave way to slate flooring and plush rugs. Portraits and landscape paintings adorned the halls. She assumed they came with the chateau, as none of them depicted any Omnics. It dawned on her that Sombra wasn't heading towards a restroom. She reached out and clamped her upper arm to stop her. 

"Where are you taking us?! We shouldn't be here!" Symmetra hissed, annoyed and worried they'd be caught. Maybe Sombra liked living dangerously, but she didn't. Normally, slinking through a building would be no issue, but her saree prevented her from moving with stealth, and magenta and gold certainly weren't subtle colors for when she wasn't mission-prepared. 

"Relax! Running to the kitchen to get a snack for Toasty and Chicharon! Like you promised, remember?" Sombra reminded.

"I said I CAN'T make any promises!" Symmetra also reminded. Sombra shrugged.

"Fine, I guess. Could you at least make me some boxes to fill up for them?" she tried. Symmetra took a moment to think about it. It was a bit of a risk for her career. While she had teased the Junkers with her offer, she hadn't taken the Ministry into account at that moment. She couldn't risk being seen doing something so rude in her host's private home, but there was still a touch of guilt that gnawed at her. _It would foster closer bonds between my coworkers and myself if I kept my promise..._ Sanjay had warned her not to get too close to her team, but could she really call them her team if she didn't play along with them? She caved but at least reached a compromise that she thought she could live with. She crafted two containers with sealing lids, as well as cutlery sets. She handed them over with a stipulation.

"If you're caught, I had nothing to do with this, fair?". Sombra agreed that it was, but the smile forewarned her that she'd probably lord the secret over her sometime later in life. Appeased, the hacker bounded off for the kitchen. Symmetra turned around, quietly padded down the carpeted halls, and snuck back into the party without anyone the wiser. 

"Ah! There you are!" Moira said, flagging her down. Symmetra caught up with her and returned to the gathering.

"Where did you run off to, I wonder?" Moira pondered with a raised eyebrow and smirk. She had her fingers wrapped around her clutch, anxiously tapping her long painted nails against the bag.

"I made a wrong turn on my way back from the restroom, and became distracted by the artwork in the halls," she fibbed. Moira bought the lie.

"Care to join me on the balcony? I found my company growing more tedious by the second," she invited. Symmetra hadn't realized that the balconies were accessible to guests, and the offer was tempting. Since dinner had wrapped up, attendees had started to mill around, choking the room with bodies all pushed together in conversations.

"Fresh air would be nice," Sym agreed. Moira led the way to a pair of French doors that opened out to overlook the skyline and the carpark below. The balcony was empty, and she suddenly felt like maybe they shouldn't have ventured that way.

"Moira, are we allowed to be here?" she asked, feeling somewhat timid. Moira opened her purse and pulled out a metal case engraved with a familiar symbol. Symmetra had seen it before. It was the double helix of the Oasis genetics department. She popped it open, and plucked out, of all things, a cigarette. She also pulled out an antique lighter with an enameled green shamrock design. 

"Max is a personal friend. He won't mind," she assured through pursed lips. She flicked the lighter top and lit the end. She took in a long inhale, and the tip grew a bright shade of orange.

"Surprised this sort of thing would bother you, considering your... expertise. Sneaking about, as it were," Moira replied, allowing the smoke to escape through her nose. 

"I typically do not go where I am not allowed unless otherwise ordered," she informed. Moira smiled a touch, and once again pulled out her cigarette case, offering her one. Symmetra politely declined. She could never stand the smell of them and found them altogether disgusting. She'd never tell O'Deorain that. It was best not to insult someone when trying to network.

"It is my turn to be surprised. I didn't think a doctor would take up such a habit," she admitted. Moira shrugged.

"A little known fact about tobacco companies," she started, while exhaling yet another cloud of smoke that floated upward, "is that they were the number one financial backer when scientists finally discovered a potential cure for cancer, emphysema, and more. Eliminate the health risks involved, and suddenly their product starts selling again. Imagine that,". Her argument was valid, but it still didn't entice her to take a cigarette.

"How are you liking it here? Working for Talon, I mean?" Moira asked. Symmetra gazed at the carpark several stories below while thinking about her answer.

"I enjoy it about as well as working at Vishkar. I've always preferred to live in close proximity to my work. While I appreciated having my own apartment in Utopaea, the smaller living quarters allows me to focus on my projects. I have nothing to distract me, and an excuse to not entertain guests. Hosting has never been a past time. And you?". Sym wasn't sure if the doctor would respond. She somewhat regretted asking, but Moira tilted her head and looked up in thought.

"Mm. I know exactly what you mean. I think we may have a touch in common. It's a gamble, though. I've always lived where I worked. Helped facilitate some of my greatest breakthroughs. Keeps me from bringing home-drama with me to work... if I currently had any, anyway... Learned that the hard way in my Overwatch days, though," she responded.

"I didn't realize you were in Overwatch... What... ah... Sorry. I was about to ask a very personal question," she said, realizing too late how awful it would have been to pry.

"What made me switch teams, as it were?" Moira supplied, and took another drag off her cigarette. Sym stiffened up and suddenly couldn't look the doctor in her eyes.

"It's alright. I'm not offended. You'd have to be daft to not want to know... Like I said. Some lessons are learned the hard way. I took home-drama... relationship drama, rather, into work with me. Painful to have to pretend that nothing ever happened between you and the person working next to you. Even more painful when that person turns on you... Overwatch didn't much care for my means of discovery either. Kept trying to tell me that my ends didn't justify my means. Ethics... What the fuck did they ever know about ethics?" she murmured.

"Moira, I didn't mean to pry. I-,".

"I'm not bothered. If I were, I wouldn't have told you. Suppose I just need a listener every now and again. Not having people to entertain... You sometimes miss having an ear to bend, so thank you, Vaswani,". There was something so familiar feeling with her. Moira wasn't the intimidating mad scientist everyone made her out to be. Right then, she found her so relatable. She peeked up to spot Moira hunched over the balcony railing, her head somewhat turned her way. _So tall..._

"...idiots..." Moira muttered.

"I beg your pardon?" Symmetra asked, not sure what she was referring to. Moira pointed out into the carpark, where she could make out Roadhog's bulky frame, and the lanky bomber next to him. Sombra's dress practically glowed in the dark. She was handing them over familiar-looking boxes. She could almost see the smile on Junkrat's face as he opened it up, and looked at the contents inside. 

"The lot of them. Well, Sombra's clever enough. Keeps tryin' to sneak camera's into my lab. I find them every time, but it doesn't stop her. The other two, though... They're chancers. Going to get themselves killed one of these days," Moira continued to mutter.

"Perhaps, though I've taught Junkrat better safety practices in the workplace... He's actually quite intelligent when you get to know him. I just think no one's ever given the chancers a chance," she explained. 

"You have an interesting perspective on them. Can't say I necessarily agree with it," Moira replied with a somewhat condescending undertone. She let out one last smoke cloud and ground the dropped cigarette under the ball of her foot.

"I'm heading back inside. Join me?" she offered. Symmetra was a touch perturbed that she would just leave her trash on the balcony. It was downright rude.

"I'll catch up with you in a few minutes," Sym politely answered. Moira gave her a little wave and exited through the dark wood doors. She focused back on the carpark. Sombra had left, and the Junkers were going to town on the boxes filled with leftovers. Their voices (or rather, Junkrat's) could be heard, but she couldn't make out what was being said. She simply enjoyed her time by herself and having somewhere peaceful to relax. The wind kicked up, stirring the long fabric banners hanging underneath her. She remembered them pulling in. They held a crest with an M stitched in the middle. _Maximilien certainly thinks highly of himself._

She focused back at the park. Junkrat had already inhaled his meal and was leaning back against his car. He looked around his surroundings in a lazy sort of matter. His line of sight turned towards Max's house, and slowly upward. There was no doubt in her mind that he spotted her; particularly when she could spot his broad smile, and his hand shooting up to wave at her.

"OI SYM!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. _Oh my goodness..._ She stifled a laugh at his ridiculous greeting. She held her hand up and returned his greeting with a small wave of her own. She heard a tap on the glass behind her, and she nearly jumped. Sombra motioned her to come inside

"Duty calls. Max wants to speak with everybody, and since you're standing in for your boss, that includes you," she informed as Sym stepped inside.

"Sanjay didn't say anything about a meeting," she stated. Sombra shrugged.  
"That's because we weren't sure if we were going to have it at all until just now. Been some... snags with some folks who're not too friendly with Max and Akande. Ah! Speaking of," Sombra explained. She'd led her down a narrow corridor, where the rest of their team waited. Max turned and appraised her.

"It's no offense to you, Miss Vaswani, but this meeting was to include Korpal, not you," he informed as politely as possible.

"Cut the shit, Max. She's his stand-in," Moira countered, coming to stand between them. 

"Yes. To network and rub elbows with the Ministers. Not in this," he corrected.

"Max! She works at our base. She's coming to this meeting," Akande snapped. Well, who was he to fight the orders of Doomfist himself?

"As you wish," Max begrudgingly allowed. He turned towards one of many bookshelves that lined a corridor and pulled out a small leather-bound tome. The heavy wood bookcase slid to the side, revealing a secret passageway. 

"Oh wow. I didn't think people actually did this cheesy shit," Sombra snickered.

"This house was used over a century ago as a set for a murder-mystery film. They installed it, and never removed it. I liked its theatrical charm. That's one of the reasons I bought this place. Well, that and the penthouse was feeling a tad... cramped. I prefer my space," Max rambled. The lights flicked on, though they hardly made a difference. They ran along the flooring edges, keeping a large percentage of the space in partial gloom. A glossy black conference table took up majority of the space. Everyone helped themselves into uncomfortable matching chairs. Their host played the gentleman and pulled Amelie's seat out for her. She gave him a quiet "merci".

"Faraday mode," Max instructed, and Sombra popped her head up.

"What?!" Sombra snapped, and there was a flicker of light. She brought up her handset and saw she wasn't receiving any signal. The lights on Symmetra's gauntlet flickered off, and her prosthetic went limp. She muttered some internal obscenities. Her arm was in constant contact with Vishkar headquarters. If ever there was a signal interruption, the arm would just completely shut down. It was a safety mechanism to keep their hardlight tech from being used by the wrong people. Or rather, anyone other than a Vishkar architech.

"I like you Sombra, but I trust you about as far as I can throw you, and that isn't very far... Actually, it is, now with my recent hardware upgrades, but regardless, I can't risk any information leaking now, can I? And, apologies for the inconvenience, Miss Vaswani,". Symmetra bit the side of her cheek, feeling singled-out and annoyed. 

"And now, to business. Akande? I hear you have some news from last night?". Their leader took over, filling Max in.

"Agents were sent into Lucheng last night to gather more intel and possible blueprints. The data we acquired last month contained notes about possible blueprints for medical devices in the works," he started.

"Why is this of significance?" Max wondered.

"Because Lucheng has been leading in the research of dark matter, and we believed they were beginning to study it for possible medical applications. Not only did we confirm our hypothesis, but we found they'd already created the equipment we'd wanted to explore, and early this morning the craft carrying it all landed back at headquarters," Akande answered. Max sat motionless, his metal face impossible to read. It was one of the reasons Symmetra found his kind a touch difficult to work with. Though, she had to admit that what she'd just heard took her by surprise, too. The discovery of dark matter was still relatively new. In fact, many were still convinced that there was no way the substance found near the south pole was what others claimed it to be. But Luchang apparently managed to find a way to collect samples and already experiment with it. 

"So what happens next?" was all Maximilien coolly obliged them with.

"That is where I will come in. I'll, of course, be running my own tests. I'm sure it will shed light on a number of things, and prove very interesting with our R and D department. But all of this will cost money, and require more staffing for said department," Moira explained.

"Ah. Another loan. Well, my last investment turned out rather well, lucky for you, but hiring a new staff? That would eat up a large part of my funding, and unlike the Ministry, I can't exactly hold silent auctions in your favor," he elaborated.

"Let Vishkar take on the engineering research," Symmetra interrupted. All eyes were on her, and she knew she'd be cut off if she didn't quickly get to her point. 

"Vishkar has finished up all major projects, leaving a relatively open schedule. There'd be no need to hire a new staff. Our portion of the investment would come in the form of labor. I could act as liaison between the development teams there and the research staff at headquarters," she continued. 

"Bold of you. And smart. I like that. Korpal picked a perfect stand-in for tonight. Don't I feel like a horse's ass for trying to keep you out of here?" Max complimented. 

"I approve of this plan. I'll call Sanjay tomorrow, and set things in motion," Akande nodded. Pleasing her stone-faced boss was a major success. Sanjay would also be pleased when she'd call him.

"Next order. It seems the rest of the targets on the Recall list have gone into hiding,-" Akande started, but was interrupted by a familiar (and very unexpected) popping sound; gunfire! The sound didn't seem to surprise anyone but her.

"Oh for the love of... That sounds like it's coming from my security station. Faraday Off!" Max ordered. The room switched back to normal. Sym's arm came back to life, and she could once again use it.

"Security feed," Max instructed. A screen popped up, showing the multiple video frames from different parts of the house. The people at the party two floors above must not have heard. The music was in full swing. The footage from the security room showed guards slumped over, bleeding, and most likely no longer alive.

"Vialli..." their host groaned.

"Vialli is dead. Killed him myself," Akande reminded.

"Yes, and it seems his brother kept his business going and bares quite the grudge. No doubt they're looking for us," their host elaborated.

"Reaper, Lacroix. Find them, please. Sombra, give them a hand. Moira. Vaswani. They've never seen us together. Neither of you will be targeted. I need you two to leave. Go back to the party, and pretend like nothing ever happened. Throw them off your trail. When you get a break, leave and wait by the cars," Akande ordered. Lacroix reached into her purse and pulled out a small handgun. Reaper reached into his suit coat and pulled out a MUCH larger Handgun. Their boss activated his earpiece.

"You two. There's been a situation. Get the cars started and wait for further instructions," he added. No doubt he was talking to the Junkers.

"Come along, Vaswani," Moira suggested, and exited the room cool as a cucumber. Symmetra's heart began to race. Somewhere in the chateau were people armed with guns who'd already murdered a handful of security guards, and she was expected to act like nothing ever happened?! 

They returned to the party, staying as calm as possible. Moira walked a little faster than normal and snagged two glasses off a passing waiter's tray. It was filled with some sort of cocktail. She handed one over to Symmetra.

"God I hope this has whisky in it... Drink it. We need to relax," Moira quietly instructed, and knocked the drink back in a single gulp. Sym tried to do the same. _Oh... oh this drink is practically flammable!_ She swallowed with a shudder, but she understood why Moira had made the suggestion. The warmth and heat relaxed her body and nerves. The scene didn't seem quite so terrifying. _We're not the targets. We're not the targets. We're not the targets..._ She kept repeating the sentence over and over in her head and looked around for an easy path out.

"Where do you think you're going, O'Deorain?" came Iris's shrill voice. Moira let out an angry sigh.

"Home, Iris. I'm tired," Moira bristled. The anthropologist proved to be rather belligerent. Back at the table sat four empty wine bottles, along with multiple tipsy Ministers.

"We never finished our discussion from early while you just dipped off for the bathroom. Afraid I'm right?" she gloated while prodding the lapel of her green jacket with a sharp bony finger.

"Not NOW Iris!" Moira spat, her brow furrowing.

"Touched a nerve, did I? Now trying to slink away, and-,".

"OH PISS OFF, YOU BUG-EYED OLD BAT!" Moira shouted amongst the crowd. Many heads turned their way at the sound of their spat, but one head stared right at Sym. She saw him; a bulky man reaching into his jacket. In an instant, she knew what he was grabbing.

"MOIRA!" she screamed, instinctively bringing up a shield right as the man aimed and fired! The bullet disintegrated as it made contact with the hard surface, and a wave of screams and shouts washed over the crowd who hadn't been paying attention. Chaos erupted. People ran everywhere, and Symmetra and Moira tried to use the distraction to their advantage. Unfortunately, they lost sight of each other in the ruckus. _She's a rail-thin giantess with flaming red hair! How do you lose a red-haired giant?!_ The fear returned, whisky be damned, and she backed away, spinning around to try and catch sight of her... anybody really. And there was a familiar face who found her. It was the man with the gun! 

His pistol was gone, but he came charging anyway. He tackled her to the floor and wrestled her arms beneath them. She tried forming anything she could with hardlight, but it was impossible in the struggle. Her chain had snagged in her long hair and fell across her face. She couldn't see. The man had gotten a good grip on her metal wrist. He hopped off of her, and pressed his boot against her ribcage, holding her down. He gave her wrist a powerful yank, ripping the gauntlet from her body!

It hurt. Gods did it hurt! She was winded and in pain; confused and partially blind. _Why me?! Why... Why?!_ The gauntlet had been synced with nerve-endings, and forcibly removing it was like tearing her real arm from her person. Thick fingers wound into her tresses, and he pulled her off the floor, dragging her towards the balcony doors.

"S-Stop! STOP!" she cried, but what help would that do? He spun behind her and pushed her through familiar wood-framed doors out onto the balcony. _Please no! No!_

"Nothin' personal, lady," he gruffly said and shoved her hard as she toppled over the metal railing. She caught herself with her single hand, hanging on for dear life! Her weight pulled heavily on the single limb. Tears stung her eyes. Her attacker raised his boot to stomp on her hand, but there was a pop and hiss, and the man fell back. Somewhere someone had fired a shot! She couldn't see, she couldn't move, and her arm was growing weaker by the second. Alone she dangled, not sure how much longer she could hang on.

_Please... someone help! I don't want to die!_


	6. Ch 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chauffeurs are stuck outside, and bored out of their minds. Roadhog is in rare form, and Junkrat isn’t amused. When Sym is pushed off a balcony railing, a daring rescue is in order!

"What th'fuck is this shit?" Junkrat huffed, examining the item that Hog dangled in front of him. It was a ribbon of black silk.

"It's a tie, y'knob," he explained.

"I KNOW that, y'dick! I just mean... why ain't it tied?" Rat pondered

"That's yer job," was the answer Roadhog gave. Junkrat snatched it, and stooped down to look at his reflection in the car's sideview mirror.

"Alright... This can't be too hard, roight?" he said, mostly to himself. After several failed attempts (one in which the tie took on the appearance of a noose), he tugged it off and gave up. That's when he looked over to see his friend holding a pre-assembled bowtie that simply needed to be hooked in place. _It's bullshit! That's what it is!_ They bickered away until the ladies quietly assembled behind them, witnessing his ignorance in fashion.

"Do you require assistance?". He almost lost his breath. She practically sparkled. The silk hugged her hips, accentuating her bare midriff. The neckline of her short sleeve top wasn’t particularly revealing, but was cut low enough to expose some cleavage. _Don't stare at that! Don't stare, y'creep!_ Bright magenta and gold; she nearly looked like a treasured gem. A delicate gold chain led from her earring to her nose, and he took notice of the piercing he never knew she had along with the small freckle by her shimmering painted lips. 

He must have sounded so stupid mumbling his answer that he did. He was a grown man incapable of tying a knot that every other grown man knew. _Why th’fuck do I even care? I ain’t a Suit. Who th’fuck am I even tryin’ to impress?!_ She stepped right up to him, her body mere inches from his. She quietly began her work, looping his tie around his neck and wrapping it here and there. He never cared about anyone's opinions on how he looked or behaved, but suddenly he did. She murmured something about him wearing suits well, and perhaps he just needed to let them grow on him. She was, of course, referring to the actual articles of clothing, but he wondered if maybe there was something deeper to her words. She was a Suit, he'd given her time, and she was most definitely starting to grow on him. 

After dropping their rides off near the back door of the chateau (they needed to make a subtle entrance), he and Hog pulled the vehicles around to park. Junkrat kept the chess set she'd crafted for them in the passenger's seat, and joined Roadhog outside, leaning against the sides of their vehicles.

"Thaz a fancy knot," Hog rumbled. Junkrat fiddled with the end of his black tie.

"Hate lookin' like this," he mumble.

"Bullshit. You're just embarrassed,". Hog rarely spoke, so when he did, he often cut to the quick of it. Junkrat frowned.

"S'what if I was?" he grumbled. His friend unhooked his bowtie, and stuffed it in his pocket. He fiddled with the top button, and let out a relaxed sigh. Junkrat busied himself by knocking dirt clods off his peg leg by giving it a few boot taps.

"She looks nice t'night," Roadhog muttered. The dirt was oddly stubborn, and he gave the peg a couple more taps.

"She always looks nice," Junkrat replied without thinking, and decided he'd cleaned it off well enough.

"Does she, now? ... How'd y'know who I was talkin' about, Rat?". Junkrat's head popped up, and he saw Roadhog's mask had been pushed back, revealing a toothy smile practically glowing from underneath scarred lips.

"I! Wh...I...," he stuttered, "... well how do YOU know who I was talkin' about, eh mate?!" he shot back while pointing with an accusatory finger. It was the stupidest reply imaginable and he realized that the second it left his mouth. 

"Coulda' been Som!" he tried adding, digging himself even deeper. Hog let out a genuine belly-laugh, and slapped his knee.

"Knew it! Fuck that's rich," his friend finally replied after the laughter died down. Junkrat sneered, not finding it quite as entertaining.

"So she looks nice. So what? Ain't allowed t'notice things like that?" Junkrat shrugged, trying to just move on to a different topic.

"Nothin'. Just reminds me of a kid I knew in secondary. Always starin' at th'pretty girls. Brain would go all stupid. Babbled like a tit," Roadhog also shrugged. Junkrat folded his arms, and stared at his friend with an annoyed look on his face. Roadhog also folded his arms, and stared right back.

"Yer awful chatty t'night, ain't ya?".

"I like gossip,". Roadhog admitted. So did Junkrat, but not when he was in the middle of it all. Makin' somethin' outta' nothin'. Stupid git. 

"I'm gonna' get th'chessboard," he announced, and dove into the car for a temporary escape.

While Junkrat had managed to chance his way into a win with Symmetra the night before, his technique (or lack there of) wasn't as successful with Hog. They played a few matches, of which Junkrat spent in a losing streak. After losing three times in a row, he decided to actually pay attention. Upon actually putting forth an ounce of effort, he found himself completely sucked in. 

_Hog left his knight open! ...but that'll leave my bishop exposed... If I move that way, I'll lose a pawn, but it'll set my rook up fer a possible shot at his king..._ He rumpled his hair in thought, dragged his hand down the side of his face, and rubbed his chin.

"Some time b'fore sunrise'd be nice," Hog joked.

"Shut it," Junkrat shot back, lifted his pawn, and set it in the line of fire. Hog took the bait, and Junkrat quickly took out his friend's king. 

"Ha-HA!" he triumphantly crowed.

"Oh wow! That'd be impressive if I hadn't heard you say ‘best out of seven’!" Sombra chirped as she appeared behind them with a couple metal cases in hand. Junkrat gave a small yelp, having not heard her approach. 

"You sneaky little-,".

"I brought food!" Sombra interrupted while holding up the two boxes in plain view.

"Oh! Well why didn't you say so? Thanks, Som!" Junkrat beamed, and took the top box out of her hands. Roadhog stared down at the container that practically fit into the palm of his hand.

"Thanks," he sarcastically grunted, and stared at the (relatively) small amount of food.

"Well, I can't take all the credit. It was Sym's idea. Had me run this down to you,". He tried not to feel too excited by the information. _Food is food. She was bein’ friendly. Z’what friends do!_

"Nice of 'er. Better friend than Hog over here! Did you know this drongo has always always ALWAYS eaten my take-away leftovers b'fore I get to 'em?" he said while thumbing over his shoulder at his friend. Hog didn't deny the truth. As Junkrat shoveled hors d'oeuvres and more into his mouth, Sombra reached into her purse and pulled out her cigarettes and lighter. 

"This party is bullshit... Max's got goons eyeing me. Not like I can do much anyways. Akande said if I pull any shit, he'll make my life miserable," she groaned.

"What'd y'have in mind?" he asked, awaiting her response. He found her to be a bit of a kindred spirit at times, in that she enjoyed getting into trouble and doing what she wasn't supposed to. Being a professional little shit made her worlds more entertaining than some of the other people he worked with. 

"I swear I was only going to bring my skimmer along! Was going to scrape a few... thousand... dollars off their bank accounts. You think those idiots inside would have noticed the money missing? They got cash to burn. But Amelie saw me stuffing it in my purse. Tattled on me like a playground snitch," she sneered after lighting her cigarette and taking a few puffs. 

"Reyes made me turn out my pockets, " she added.

"Reyes? Who th'hell is Reyes?" Junkrat asked. While he hadn't gone out of his way to get to know very many people at the compound, he figured he should have known somebody above Sombra's station.

"Gabriel Reyes... That's Reaper's real name. But don't you ever go calling him that. He straight up snuffed a guy for asking if that was actually who he was. It's a bit of a touchy subject with him," she explained. She kept chatting away as she smoked, talking about whatever crossed her mind. The Junkers acted more as sounding boards for her to bounce possible ideas and thoughts off of.

“Then Moira’s all glued to Sym’s side. Could barely get a second alone with her. Kinda’ weird if you ask me. Moira doesn’t usually chit-chat with anyone not in her department,” Sombra rambled. Junkrat had always been an open book, and had a hard time keeping his face and body from reacting. He sneered and looked away at mention of the geneticist having eyes for his friend. 

“Doesn’t look like something you approve of either, eh Toasty?”. Sombra’s grin was broad, and devious. _Not you too!_

“Safe t’say Moira don’t like us very much,” he grumbled.

“I know. She told Akande not to hire you two, but Reaper reminded him of the importance of having expendables on the team,” she explained. 

"Sure know how t'make people feel wanted," he snipped. The Junkers knew from the get-go why they were hired and why they were paid so well. They were the only two crazy enough to sign up for the positions of "demolitions experts", and they were most definitely expendable. It still didn't mean it didn't hurt to hear it said out loud.

"Don't take it personally. Pretty sure he thinks the same about me, too," she said in an attempt to soothe. Her phone chirped inside her purse, and she took it out to give it a quick look. She took a hasty drag off her cigarette.

"And there's my cue to leave. Need to get back inside and find Max. Have fun you two!" she grinned, and left in a literal flash.

"Yeah... fun!" Junkrat snipped, still digging into his lunch box. His bodyguard eventually gave him a nudge and motioned his line of sight upwards towards the chateau balcony. Junkrat's eyes followed up the long red and black banner that slightly fluttered from the wind, and locked on what Hog had spied. There was no mistaking Moira's shock of red hair, nor the brilliant shade of magenta wrapped around Symmetra's body. Moira stood so casually while chatting away with her, and it irked him for some reason that he couldn't put his finger on. _That woman's the devil! All there is to it!_

Junkrat finished up the contents of his box, and handed the empty container to Hog. Moira had left, leaving Sym to herself... and she was looking down at them. There was no denying it. Perhaps she was just watching out of boredom, or was having difficulty figuring out who it was that was even down below. _Play it... play it cool, mate!_ Why he suddenly needed to play it cool was something he decided he'd mentally explore later, but for the moment he leaned nonchalantly against the side of the car, and let his eyes wander until they just so happened to look upwards. Well, what a surprise? There stood his coworker, and it was totally definitely absolutely the first time he noticed her standing up there. He raised his hand in an emphatic wave.

"OI SYM!" he bellowed like an idiot. He couldn't see the look on her face, but he could see her raise her hand and return his greeting with a tiny wave. Feeling satisfied, he want back to pretending like nothing ever happened. Somebody had caught her attention, and she turned to leave. Junkrat let out a little sigh, and eased further into his lean.

"Fuckin' pathetic..." Roadhog snorted.

"What?! Was just sayin' g'day! Can't a guy say g'day to his workmate?" Junkrat countered, putting a touch of emphasis on the word "workmate".

"Whatever y'say boss,". Junkrat frowned, and his eyes narrowed. Roadhog was starting to get into his head, and he wasn't very fond of it.

"Think I liked it better when y'kept yer mouth shut,". 

"Think I like watchin' ya' make a tit of yerself, but I'll keep quiet," Roadhog returned, his choice in words very deliberate.

Having burned out their interest in more games of chess, Roadhog reached into his pocket to pull out a tattered book. Junkrat glanced at the cover, spying a lighthouse overlooking ominous ocean waves and a title that hinted at a murder-mystery. His friend wasn't finished. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out an old copy of a magazine, which he tossed to Junkrat. Rat caught it, and gave it a quick glance.

"Why th'fuck would I wanna' read Modern Archite-," and his words trailed off, because on the glossy cover was Sym's face with a headline that read "Satya Vaswani: Welcome To Her Reality". 

"Saw it in her dossier. You know; that thing you never read. Looked it up. Found an old copy. Lotta' tech-talk bullshit I don't get, but still worth a read sometime," Roadhog suggested. Junkrat curled up the magazine into a tube so he wouldn't have to look at her face all perfectly made up with perfectly styled hair and perfectly fancy clothes.

"You just keep this around in yer pockets all th'time?" Junkrat joked, tapping him on the shoulder with the paper tube.

"Left it in m'bag a couple weeks ago. Thought bringin' readin' material along on missions'd be a good idea. Borin' as fuck t'night," Roadhog explained. His bodyguard was in rare form. He'd never taken so many jabs at him in one evening, and so his pride was put up on the chopping block. Curiosity was burning away. He'd never known anyone who made it to the cover of a magazine before, save for him and Hog. (Well... it was their mugshots on a very special episode of A Moment in Crime, but he didn't think their level of notoriety quite compared.) But if he read it he'd only prove Roadhog right, and he'd be damned if he'd let that happen! 

"Don't feel much like readin' t'night t'be honest," he completely lied as he opened up the car door and tossed the issue onto the passenger seat, "Maybe later,". He slammed the door shut, putting an end to the ridiculousness that was Roadhog's insinuations. _There, y'fat git_!

"...Waitin' fer later when you're alone in yer bunk?".

"WILL YOU KNOCK IT TH'FUCK OFF?!" he roared

"You two. There's been a situation. Get the cars started and wait for further instructions," a third voice interrupted. It took Junkrat longer than it probably should have to figure out where Akande's voice was coming from. Roadhog was already unlocking the door to the Humvee while Junkrat scrambled to get the unlocked door of his own vehicle to simply open.

"Roight! On it, boss!" he called back. Doomfist had either already closed the voice channel, or simply ignored him.

"The fuck is going on in there, mate?!" he hollered to Roadhog. 

"Dunno'. Get yer shit ready. Who knows what's gonna' happen," Hog suggested. _Don't gotta' tell me twice!_ The car revved to life, and he popped the trunk open. Roadhog had his shotgun and hook at the ready. Junkrat pulled out his launcher and collected a few concussion mines. There was a popping gunshot several floors up, and the screams of the party-goers could be heard. 

"Th'bloody fuck?!" he rushed in surprise. He and Hog had hit up parties in the past for a quick score, but this was the first time that he'd been on the other side of the situation. Was it merely thieves like them making a grand entrance to scoop up some of the valuables on display? If that were the case, they'd chosen a poor target, as Talon's top agents were somewhere inside, but Akande had called them, so it had to be a situation more dire than that. If their boss was worried, perhaps they should be too. 

They kept an eye on the floors above, where running shadows dashed by windows, and those that managed to find their way out of the building started to trickle out Towards the front enterance. He watched as the balcony doors swung open. Two people came through; a man and... _SYM!_ Once again, there was no mistaking her, but something was wrong. He couldn't see the gleaming white of gauntlet, nor its blue lights. She appeared to be struggling. He was pulling her along, and with one hard shove, she toppled over the black metal railing! _HOLY FUCKING CHRIST!_

She'd managed to catch herself, gripping onto the railing with one hand. Junkrat scrambled back to the open trunk, where he pulled out a concussion mine, and started running. From somewhere came another pop and hiss, and the man who'd shoved her over the edge the floor. He didn't take the time to look and see who'd made the shot, or where they were located. He had more pressing matters, and that matter shrieked in terror as one of her shoes slipped off her foot and fell several stories down onto the stone below. 

"I'M COMIN' SYM! HANG ON!" he announced, and tore off for the balcony. He tossed the mine down, and pulled out the detonator.

"HOG! I'M ABOUT T'DO SOMETHIN' REAL STUPID, MATE, SO BE READY FER IT!" he warned to his bodyguard, and jammed his thumb down on the button. The mine exploded, rocketing him up skyward. _FUCKFUCKFUCKOHMYGODWHATTHEFUCKWASITHINKING?!_

He whipped his hands out, catching the fabric of the hanging banner in a fierce grip. It was a somewhat narrow strip of canvas, and he wrapped his legs around it, twisting it into an escape rope. Amazed he'd even gotten that far with his idiotic plan, he glanced at his trajectory. He could see Symmetra still dangling only a few feet above and to the left of him. He shimmied upwards; it wasn't the first time he'd had to perform ridiculous acrobatics while on the job. When he was finally flush with her he reached over, and wrapped his arm around her waist.

"I got ya! Told ya I would!" he rushed, breathless. Sym didn't say anything, and let out a sound of physical strain mixed with fear.

"Wrap yer legs around me! We're gonna' slide back down, alright?" he instructed. She tried her best, her knees pressing tightly on either sides of his torso.

"Gotta' let go, Sym!" he reminded. Her eyes were shut tight, and there were tears.

"We're going to fall," she quietly cried.

"NO! No we ain't! I ain't gonna' let go! But you gotta', alright?! Or else all this darin' rescue stuff ain't gonna' be worth shit! Help me out an' let go!" he instructed again. Symmetra took in a steadying breath, and unclenched the muscles of her arm and hand. She clung to him as best she could, and he only gripped her tighter. Now if only he could follow his own instructions! They needed to slide backdown, and if he'd estimated correctly, they'd only have a couple meters to drop at the end. He relaxed his own grip on the banner, and they slowly started to descend.   
  
And then he heard the fabric begin to tear.

"Shit!SHITSHITSHIT! HOG!" he roared in panic. He relaxed his grip as much as possible, hoping to slide down far enough before the canvas tore completely. They were so close to the bottom! So close! But not close enough. The banner ripped off the balcony, and, still wrapped around each other, they began to plummet! He snapped his eyes shut, hearing only Symmetra's choked scream.

The concrete below them was surprisingly yielding and... rubbery? They bounced back up into the air a touch before tumbling and rolling across solid ground, a mass of limbs, groans, and confusion. Junkrat slowly opened his eyes. He was sprawled out on the concrete with Symmetra on one side, and Roadhog on the other.

"Where th'fuck did y'get a trampoline?" Junkrat asked with groaning confusion.

"I was th'trampoline, y'knob," Roadhog explained with a wheeze. He had attempted to catch the falling pair, but they'd simply knocked the colossal man down and bounced off his ample belly. Junkrat slowly pulled up, wincing at the multiple scuffs and scrapes, and what were probably newly-forming bruises. He'd seen worse, but it still wasn't pleasant. As his senses returned to him, he remembered there was someone else next to him. He couldn't tell what sorts of sounds Sym was making. He knew she was in pain, still winded, and noticeably shaken. Maybe the little shaking sobs coming out of her was what happened when you were a mix of all those things. 

She kept her lone arm tucked up against her body. Her saree had been torn a bit in the fall. Junkrat spotted bits of wire and circuitry sticking out from where the rest of her gauntlet usually connected. What had happened to the prosthetic remained unknown to him, and he could tell Symmetra was in no state to fill in the gaps. He squatted down next to her.

"Sym? Look, I know you're hurtin' bad, but we gotta' get to th'car. Can ya walk?" he started.

"I... I think so," she answered with a whimper. He'd never seen her like that before, though he supposed they'd never been in a situation like it for him to compare. He roped his arm around her again, and helped her stand up.

“C’mon. I got ya,”. She limped slightly across the lot, and he spied a bare foot peeking out from underneath her skirt. Junkrat popped the passenger door open, and he helped her into the seat. 

“Er... y’need anything else?” he asked. He was no good in situations like that. His go-to had been a nip from his flask, which he’d left back on Sombra’s plane, or perhaps a shot or two of something amber-colored and smoky. With neither of those options Currently available, he awaited her answer.

“Can you turn the heat up?” she quietly answered. She felt cold, which explained the small shivers coursing though her. 

“Yeah! Yeah, here!” he said, and turned the knobs for the climate control. He unbuttoned his jacket, and pulled it off.

“Take this, too!” he offered, and wrapped his coat around her as best he could. She mumbled a small thank-you, and tucked her knees up to her chest.

“RAT! COMPANY!” Hog hollered. Junkrat shot up and immediately saw a couple of unfriendly faces running their way.

“Stay here!” he ordered, and slammed the door shut before she could say anything. He snagged his launcher that he’d left on the roof of the car, and stooped to grab his snap-trap off the ground behind him. A bullet whizzed past him, far too close for comfort.

“Lookit that, Hog! They ain’t playin’ nice!” he grinned, and threw the trap out in front of him, snapping open and ready. Hog swung his heavy hook in circles over his head, and whipped it outward. It arced just over the head of one of their enemies, and he pulled it with a sharp yank. He tugged the man right into the line of the metal maw, and the horrible device snapped shut around his leg. They couldn’t make out facial details in the partial dark, but the howl he let out told them he didn’t like the predicament he was in. Hog put him out of his misery with a blast from his shotgun. 

Unfortunately, they’d both neglected the other man heading their way, who fired another shot that was even closer than the first one, and grazed Junkrat’s ear. He clamped his hand over the wound.

“FUCK!” Junkrat shrieked, and aimed his launcher in the general vicinity of his attacker, “Oh, you’re a dead motherfucker!”. He wasn’t wrong about that, but he wasn’t the one to take him out. Another shot was fired, though far more quiet than the one before. It was a neat and clean headshot, and the man fell over.

“Holy shit!” Junkrat gasped, mouth agape. He tried to spy the shooter, and saw a female form leaning out a second-story window. Assured that her target wasn’t going to be getting back up, Amelie ducked back inside. The sound of heavy footsteps turned his attention back to his surroundings. Akande, Moira, and Sombra were quickly approaching them, followed by two other figures.

“That is the last of them?” Doomfist asked, looking over the two bodies bleeding on the concrete.

“Seems that way,” Sombra reported as she stared at her handset. Moira came running up to them.

“Vaswani! I lost track of her! Where is she?!” she rushed. Junkrat thumbed over to the vehicle behind him.

“In th’car. She’s alright. Well... alive, anyways. Looks shook-up an’ hurtin’,” Junkrat explained. O’Deorain pushed past him, and tapped on the door.

“Let me get a look at you, Satya. See if I can help,” she coaxed. Sym must have given her permission, because the doctor opened the door and stooped down for closer examination.

“How’d she survive?! I thought I saw her go over the railing!” Sombra whispered, suddenly standing between the Junkers.

“She held on. Used a concussion mine t’jump up an’ get ‘er,” Junkrat explained. 

“Used me as a cushion,” Hog added.

“Well, this will be a pain to clean up,”. The voice had a noticeable metallic ring to it; one the Junkers were not fans of. They looked over towards the approaching figure. He was tall and gleaming. Red eyes stared at the bodies underfoot. Junkrat’s nose wrinkled in a sneer. Roadhog’s fist curled around the handle of his shotgun.

“Hog. You ready t’scrap a bot?” Junkrat whispered. Sombra’s eye bulged, and she placed a hand on each of them to hold them back.

“Jesus, don’t you dare! Amelie and Reaper will have a bullet through your heads in a millisecond!” she hissed in warning. Luckily, no one else heard their threats.

“That’s Max, so dial it down a notch, and play nice!” she instructed. She turned around with a smirking face.

“A mess, but we got them all,” Sombra reminded their host. Sirens began to echo, drawing closer towards Max’s home.

“Ah. There come the authorities. This will be a costly cover-up, I’m sure... You all had better leave before they arrive. It will be difficult to explain my associations with... Well, you understand,” he rambled. Max reached into his jacket, and procured a phone. He gave it a couple clicks, and a portion of the stone wall circling the car park simply vanished, revealing a private drive; a hologram all that time.

“There you are. Take that road. It will lead you back into town. A bit of a roundabout path, but far more discrete,” he suggested. 

“As always, thank you, Max,” Akande said, shook the Omnic’s hand, and climbed into the Humvee. Reaper quickly followed, and Roadhog lumbered up to the driver side door so as not to look at his mortal enemy. 

“Rat! C’mon!” Sombra whispered and tugged at his sleeve. He ground his teeth, and turned away from the homeowner.He tried ignoring the blood dripping from his graze, but it kept running down the side of his neck. _Just... ferget ‘bout it._  Hog could patch him up when they got somewhere safe. Sym was still in the front seat, wrapped up in his jacket. The interior felt like an oven, but no one complained. 

“Everyone ready?” he asked, feeling not particularly cheerful. Amelie had finally reached the vehicle, and pulled her door shut.

“Yes,” Moira answered on their behalf. 

“Sym? You doin’ alright? Need somethin’?” he asked the only injured party member.

“I’m fine... I seem to be sitting on something, though,” she replied, and fished out whatever it was. Junkrat suddenly remembered; it was the magazine! Embarrassed, he quickly tugged it out of her hand before she could see the cover.

“Whoops! Sorry. Fergot I left that there,” he hastily apologized, and stuffed it into the compartment on his side. _Fuck! That was close!_ He didn’t want her to see it. She didn’t NEED to see it. He didn’t want her to know... whatever it was that was going on in his head. _Now ain’t th’time fer that!_ And he meant that as much for himself as he did for her.


	7. Ch 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat suffers more needling from Moira. Symmetra wakes up back at Talon HQ to several entertaining voicemails, and an unexpected surprise. Later, Junkrat reads Sym's article, and realizes (to his misfortune) that he may have a crush on his workmate.

“I can’t do too much for you until we get back. Your nerve sensors and connectors have been damaged and I don’t have the proper tools to fully remove them. For now, all I can do is give you something for the pain,” Moira informed as she prepped a syringe that she’d found in a first aid kit. Symmetra gave a nod while another droplet of blood ran down the side of Junkrat’s face. He hoped there’d be some of the painkiller left for him as well. The graze he’d sustained stung like a bitch and the aches and pains from falling and bouncing off of Hog were already starting to set in.

Symmetra let out a little hiss as the needle punctured her skin, immediately followed by a sigh of relaxation. Her fist unclenched. Her shoulders slumped. She awkwardly threw Junkrat’s jacket back around her shoulders, and slowly slid off the stool bolted in front of Sombra’s computer station.

“Come to my office tomorrow, and I’ll have a gold sticker for my number one patient,” the doctor joked. Junkrat cringed internally at the delivery. Moira's words were stiff and forced, as though testing out humor for the first time.

“Whhhhyyy d’you have stiggers?” Sym slurred. In better lighting, Junkrat could see the exhausted look in her eyes, and the dulled expression on her face. The painkiller seemed to be taking effect, and a broad smile told Junkrat that Sym liked it.

“Perhaps you should lay down and get some rest... Junkrat? Let me see to your ear,” she replied, motioning towards an empty cot for Sym with one hand, and beckoning Junkrat over with another. Sym stumbled towards the thin cot and caught her skirt hem under her toes. She started to fall forward, and Junkrat lunged a bit to catch her before she face-planted.

“You’re alright. I gotcha’!” he muttered. Sym looked up into his eyes with heavy drooping lids.

“Jusz like earlier... very kind of you,” she murmured back. Junkrat knew she was pumped full of some sort of mind-altering drug, but an awkward blush still burned his cheeks at her comment.

“Yeah, well, I owed you one. Hog an’ me, I mean. It's what friends do,” he quickly explained. He helped her stand upright just long enough to make it to the spartan bed, and she slowly lowered down towards the edge.

“We’re frenz?” she asked through increasingly garbled speech.

“Well... well, yeah! I mean -," and was interrupted by her jaw-cracking yawn, "Y’know what? Why don’t y’just go t’sleep?”. She gave a delayed nod of her head, agreeing with his suggestion.

“Good... idea,” she mumbled and plopped on her side. He was pretty sure she’d fallen asleep before hitting the pillow.

"Junkrat? Your ear?" Moira curtly reminded. Assured that Sym wasn't going to roll off the cot (due largely to the snores already escaping her), he walked over and hopped up onto the same stool she'd sat upon only a moment ago. Moira grabbed his chin and turned his head somewhat roughly.

"Nasty graze. Took off a bit of your ear. Left a bit of a notch... only partially cauterized. They used old-fashioned bullets. Not laser blasters," she commented to herself. She reached into the first aid kit and fished out a clean pair of gloves, which she snapped on.

"That a good thing?". Moira's tone was hard to read and her bed-side manner left something to be desired. The doctor took a cotton pad and dabbed it with disinfectant. She proceeded to swab away at his wound, and Junkrat's eyes popped open in shock.

"Fucking shit!" he growled. He thought his ear stung before, but the disinfectant straight up burned!

"Stop whining, you big baby. Can't heal it up if you keep squirming like that," she ordered. It only brought back the memory of haunting screams echoing from her lab and similar words uttered to hush her patients; one of which was sitting at the copilot's console. Junkrat gripped the sides of the stool and grimaced as she continued dabbing away. Having sufficiently cleansed the notch, she looked it over some more and muttered some sort of personal observation. He couldn't quite make it out. She reached back into the kit and pulled out a tool he wasn't familiar with.

"It is a good thing, by the way. The wound is still open, which means I can properly mend you," she continued and powered up the tool. It looked like a slim metal pen with a glowing yellow tip. Junkrat wanted to look at it some more, but a quick twist from Moira's hand tilted his head away from it, and she began to work away. The little pen buzzed, reminding him of the tattoo gun at Swagman's Needlepoint. The initial pain slowly eased, and he sat all stiff, trying not to make eye contact with her.

"What exactly are y'doin'?" he asked out of pure curiosity.

"Repairing your cellular structure... With the flesh not being cauterized, I'll be able to rebuild the cartilage. Being merely a first aid pen, the process will take a few minutes, I'm afraid," she answered. In an effort to distract him from Moira's gaze, his eyes darted about the small cabin. Sombra sat up front, piloting the ship alongside Reaper. Hog sat with his back against the side, his head tilted downward in a doze. Akande was busy on the phone, listening to someone. He assumed it was that fucking Omnic piece of shit from earlier in the evening. _Max! Scrap pile fancies itself as a person!_ Lacroix busied herself in the very back of the ship with what looked like a fashion magazine, flicking through the pages as though it was just another day at the office for her. She shifted her legs, crossing one over the other and exposing her upper thigh. The dress left little to the imagination, but his own felt dull at that moment.

"Rather noble of you to risk your life the way you did, being just a mercenary and all," Moira commented, jostling his attention back to the doctor tending to his injury.

"Er, wouldn't exactly call it bein' noble. When shit goes sideways I tend t'go off without thinkin' all that much. Just ask Hog. He'll be th'first t'tell ya' I ain't much th'plannin' sort when things get all cocked-up. Not like I had much time t'think, either. Just saw her go over th'rail, so I ran," he tried explaining but felt it insufficient. “B’sides... Hog an’ I owed ‘er one, roight?”.

“So you wouldn’t have done the same were you not indebted to her?” she prodded.  
  
“Well... well I still would’ve. Never crossed m’mind when it happened, anyway. Just didn’t want t’see my friend splatter, if that’s alright with you,” he huffed. What was with Moira’s needling? Did he need some particular reason to do something like that? If Sombra had flopped over that railing, he would have done the same. Reaper, Akande, Amelie, and the doctor herself? He’d like to think he was at least decent enough to attempt to help the people who paid him, though he knew from day one that none of them would do the same. The buzz of the little mending tool felt like a worm tickling deep in his ear. He wanted to just jam whichever finger he could down the canal and dig the obnoxious sensation out.

“So... any chance one a’those could grow my arm back? Or m’leg? Both’d be nice,” he joked.

“No. They’ve been healed up for far too long. The technology won't work... That’s assuming you lost them later in life. Had you naturally been born without, it still wouldn’t work,”. Junkrat remembered practically being force-fed liquor in the hopes of numbing him entirely, or possibly even blacking-out altogether. He still couldn’t stand the taste of tequila because of it. _Some doctor he ever was..._ A maddening thing it was, always being able to so vividly recall things like that, while happier moments of days past seemed to drift in and out of his mind without his consent.

“With luck and a fair bit of work on my part, I’m hoping to change all that. I’ve been on the verge of discovering full cellular regeneration for so long...” she added, her voice clearly drifting into the daydream of someone who had been wronged; a vision of righteous vengeance. Junkrat had his fair share of those, and they all involved the Queen. Hyde received his comeuppance and it had been very satisfying, but she was a different story; a loose thread he’d tried to pull off. No such luck for him, as attempting to do so merely led to his life unraveling.

“If... WHEN I make my breakthrough and am ready to move onto human testing, I would gladly name you Labrat... If you’re interested,”. Her offer was no joke, though she was smiling and Junkrat felt unsettled, if not panicked.

“Maybe... Maybe somebody else’d be more suited fer th’job. Kinda’ already situated bein’ a Junkrat,” he hesitantly replied. She chuckled some more, perhaps to put him at ease. It didn’t work.

“Ah. In the mean-time, I will make due with regenerating your ear. You’re all set. Try not to touch it. The flesh is still tender, and will need a day or two to settle, as it were,”. Moira turned the little pen off, and carefully tucked it back into the first aid bag. Like everyone else aboard, she was tired and ready to put the evening’s ordeals behind them.

 

**.         .         .         .         .**

 

It was nearly lunchtime before Symmetra awoke. She was in her own bed, still in her clothes from the auction, and covered not with her own blankets, but with a rumpled suit coat. Her sleep had been deep and dreamless, and she felt as though she’d risen from the dead. Her eyes cleared and refocused, though everything still remained a tiny bit blurred. She tried rubbing the heel of her palm across them, but it didn't help in the slightest.

She groaned from her parched mouth and dry throat. She remembered the night before, and the events proceeded to replay in her mind vividly. There was their arrival, the dinner next to Moira, sneaking away with Sombra to get the Junkers some food, returning to the balcony with the doctor, the meeting in the hidden conference room, the attack in the middle of the party, and... _Fate was kind to me to place my near-tragedy in view of those who could help._ She shuddered at the flashback from hanging single-handedly from the railing. A chill ran up her spine, much as it had then too. The memory sent a shooting pain through her sore arm, and she tried to work the stiffness out.

_So there was that. But how did I end up back here?_ She could recall Junkrat helping her into the car, and giving her his jacket. There was a terrible commotion outside of the car, though she couldn’t see the details. The situation was quickly taken care of, and the last thing she remembered (other than the excruciating pain she was in) was driving back towards Sombra’s ship. _Somewhere along the way, I went from there to here..._ She saw her phone on her nightstand, and a glowing icon told her she had a few video messages. Perhaps they would shed some light on the memory gaps.

"I took the liberty of having what remained of your gauntlet removed from your body. I'm terribly sorry for the inconvenience, but I figured it would be better than leaving the severed nerve connectors," Moira explained, her holographic face hovering above Symmetra's phone.

"I also figured you'd sleep more comfortably in your own bed, so I had your friends take you to your room. When you're feeling up to it, feel free to stop by my office. I believe I still owe you a sticker," the doctor finished with a wry smile. _A sticker? I don't... it must be a reference from Sombra's ship. At least that answers how I got to my own room._ She swiped to start the next message. It was Sombra.

"Hey Sym! Don't know if Moira left you a message or not, but just wanted to let you know I had Toasty and Chicharron help me take you to your room. Found your key in your purse. Wasn't snooping or nothing. Honest! But yeah. Didn't want you freakin' out when you woke up, cool?" Sombra said, her head turned away from the camera, and Sym could hear a distinctive raspy voice mumbling something in the background.

"Speaking of, Toasty wants to say something to you," she added, and the video became a blurred whirlwind as the phone was handed over to someone else. Junkrat's amber eyeball stared back at the camera in alarming detail (though she admitted to herself it was a very pretty color).

"Is it workin'?" he asked, clearly not addressing the intended viewer while staring right into the lens.

"Yeah it's still recording,". Sombra's voice sounded faded and distant, though she was probably standing right next to him. Junkrat tried to angle the camera better, but it was an unsuccessful attempt as she could see right up his pointed nose. Splatters of blood still stained his white dress shirt. His tie was loosened. He looked directly at the camera and waved.

"I ain't ever gonna' get used t'this tech stuff... Anyway, just wanted t'say it was a real blast HANGIN' with you last night, but... erm... I know we're even now, roight? Y'got in a scrape. We got ya' out. But since it was my dumb fault th'last time y'bailed us out, figured I owe ya two! So if somethin' like that happens again, we got ya'! Right Hog?" he said with his head turned towards (she assumed) Roadhog. There was a grunt, though whether it was in agreement or not remained to be seen. Junkrat looked back at the camera with a smile that looked both warm and sincere.

"No rush gettin' m'coat back, by the way. Not like I'm gonna' be wearin' it anytime soon, roight?". He gave a little wave, and the message ended. Symmetra smirked a bit at herself and made a mental note to scour her room for hidden cameras (she wasn’t entirely convinced by Sombra’s words). She swiped to the next video. Sanjay's familiar face appeared, and although it was void of emotion, she knew he was relieved by greeting alone.

"Vaswani! Thank goodness you’re alright! I was informed of the happenings last night. I’m terribly sorry. Had I not stepped away on business, you would have never come to any harm... You will forgive me, won’t you?” he started. _As if you had anything to do with it... Of course you are forgiven._ Symmetra remembered something though. She HAD been targeted. She and Moira were originally told that they weren’t, but the man had raised a gun at them and no one else. Had their connection to Talon been officially discovered? _Vialli’s brother... He must have known Sanjay was on Talon’s board... Perhaps when he saw me, he assumed I was Sanjay’s stand-in for the evening._ Her boss had sided with Akande upon his escape from prison, as did Max. No doubt Vialli’s brother sought revenge against Vishkar as well.

“But in positive news, Akande also informed me of your potential proposal concerning Doctor O’Deorain’s latest acquisitions. It is a fantastic idea, Vaswani. You do Vishkar proud,”. Typically Sanjay’s smiles were few and small at best, but there over the hologram screen, he was practically beaming. It warmed a part of her heart that had laid cool ever since the events in Rio. Her superior continued to instruct her to take a couple days off to rest and collect herself, and contact him when she finally felt able. If he was actually suggesting she take a couple days, then he was indeed in a good mood (or possibly feeling guilty for her near-death-experience). She’d take the offer regardless. The video ended, but a notification informed her that she had one last message. _Goodness, I’m Miss Popular today, aren’t I? There's a first time for everything, I guess..._

“Hello Miss Vaswani,” Max greeted. His call was the most surprising. He sat at a desk in a stately looking library. Mahogany shelves held dusty leather tomes. She had a hard time believing he actually read the books behind him. They most likely came with the chateau.

“I want to offer my sincerest apologies for what happened last night. Had my security staff been more alert, you wouldn’t have come to harm. Moira has assured me that you’re fine and uninjured. I, ah... I have your arm here, or what’s left of it. Per Korpal’s request, I’ll be sending it back to Vishkar head offices while they send you a functioning replacement,”. Max’s apology was awkward and unnatural feeling. She sensed he didn’t apologize often.

“And also, I believe congratulations are in order,” he continued. _...oh?_ She rubbed her chin in confusion. Was he speaking of the potential deal she suggested?

“You’ve won! Well, technically speaking, you were the only bidder, but you’re now the proud owner of two antique jet skis. I’ll have them transported to you tomorrow, and thank you for your contribution,”. Omnics could not smile and relied on their eyes and voices to convey emotions. Max looked at the camera, tilted his head slightly to the side, and his usual red-lit eyes transitioned to a cheerful yellow. He looked utterly ridiculous, and he was aware of it as well.

"Take care, Miss Vaswani,". Max's face vanished, and her phone flashed the low-battery signal. She plugged it into her nightstand to recharge and began the arduous task of undressing single-handedly. What the hell am I going to do with a pair of jet skis? And why did no one else bid on the damn things?!

 

**.         .         .         .         .**

 

**Tell us a little bit about yourself so we can get that bit out of the way.**

_I was born in Hyderabad. My mother worked for the local newspaper. She had a sharp eye and worked as an editor._

**Your father?**

_I never knew him. My mother told me he died before I was born. I was told he worked in construction, and so I developed an interest in building from a very early age._

**Hyderabad... I hear that's quite a nice area... these days, anyway.**

_It's made great strides in improvement, but at the time it was a miserable place to live. It suffered heavily during the Omnic Crisis, as did much of India. There simply wasn't enough money to rebuild, though that didn't stop refugees from flocking to it. Too many people... Stifling. I always felt like I was drowning there._

**It sounds like you're the sort of person who enjoys her personal space.**

_Aren't we all? In school, we're taught that humans are a communal species, but I believe we can achieve more if we learn to rely upon ourselves first before turning towards those around us. Deep down, we all can benefit from getting away from the chaotic mass. There is sanctity in our own established order; whatever that may be to each person._

**Well! That certainly explains the emphasis on private residences in many of your designs! But you mentioned schooling. Many young readers may be keen to know your educational path.**

_I doubt that children read your magazine... That must sound harsh. I do not wish to give offense._

**None taken. I suppose you're correct on that front. We have a more targeted readership. But, for the sake of the few who may, or perhaps for hopeful parents with promising children, how does one go about becoming a hardlight architech?**

_My education was unconventional. The local schools refused to teach... people such as myself. They could barely handle the overloaded classes such as they were, much less take the time to work with students that are on the spectrum or had special needs. My mother was able to educate me on the basics; how to read and write, add and subtract. But I very quickly learned and soon outpaced her ability to teach. She was desperate and contacted many specialized boarding schools, but they were far too expensive and none of them would offer me a scholarship. They did, however, point her in the direction of the Vishkar Academy. Though their curriculum offers a very narrow path, they were the most promising of my options. They set up an interview and assessment and immediately offered me a full-ride scholarship up through my secondary levels. When later I proved to be a valuable educational asset, the continued to cover my university costs._

**So one would simply need to attend the academy?**

_Unfortunately, it's not so simple these days. Hardlight was still in its infancy then, and many students were selected at its start. However, once they proved incapable of utilizing the equipment, they weren't allowed to return to the school for their secondary education. The process is much more streamlined these days. If a potential candidate cannot display any signs of hardlight capability, Vishkar will move on. It may seem harsh, but there is no purpose in grooming a person to work with a tool they will be incapable of ever using... They do make the exceptions if students wish to pursue a career in the business sector._

**So there's a bit of an innate ability involved?**

_Yes. It is difficult to put into words how this ability manifests, and what sets those with the gift apart. Even the most gifted genius may not qualify for the program, but innate intelligence does seem to factor in quite a bit as well._

**Ah. Either you "have it" or you don't, as it were.**

_That is a simplified assessment, though correct I suppose._

**There are quite a few hardlight architechs these days, and yet you're considered one of the best, if not THE best in the business. Why do you think that is?**

_Because I choose to be. I was born with the ability, and fate was kind enough to establish a route to my calling. I could have chosen to not act upon it, I suppose, but denying one's true calling is a slap in the face to those forces. Fate gave me the ability to make my vision reality, and so that is what I've done. Not everyone is meant for greatness, but I know I am._

**Well! That's quite the answer...**

_I've been told that speaking that way makes me sound arrogant, which would be hurtful if I considered arrogance to be a sin. I believe that arrogance is merely a by-product of confidence._

**And that mentality certainly is reflected in your designs and creations... Your confidence, I mean. You take bold strides in your designs, combining elements that many would never consider. Your latest designs for the project in Brazil appear to be minimalistic, but sumptuous. Equal parts offices of utilitarian practicality and ornate temples dedicated to beauty itself.**

_It pleases me to see that my detailing hasn't gone unnoticed. You flatter me... Hardlight allows me to build and bend reality to my liking. That is truly all there is to it. Rio needs an epicenter of order and peace. That is why I designed it as such._

**I'm not trying to "fangirl", or however the old phrase goes. I just feel it's fair to give credit where it's due and give appreciation to the artist. That being said... it seems not everyone holds the same appreciation for your work.**

_You are still referring to Rio, I assume._

**I wouldn't make for a thorough journalist if I didn't approach the subject. There's been a lot of criticism concerning Vishkar. Not to mention some unflattering accusations.**

_People are free to ignore the unpleasant truth, if they wish. I wouldn't recommend it. Like many major cities, Rio was hit hard by the Omnic Crisis. Crime, violence, and chaos were left in its wake. Anyone could see they needed new growth. New opportunity. How could that be achieved if they went with the same designers and worked with the same politicians and corporations? It would only bring more of the same and exacerbate the peoples' plight. Bringing order and peace isn't always fashionable, I suppose. The people living there will grow to understand, in time. There is no sense hanging on to broken things, particularly for the sake of nostalgia._

**That is an interesting viewpoint... Earlier you mentioned being on the spectrum. Some have said your condition...**

_It is not a pitiable condition or mental illness._

**I did not mean to offend.**

_I am aware. I just wanted to clarify for your readers. I am not offended by someone pointing out the truth; that I am indeed on the spectrum. I only take offense when it's treated as something to be ashamed of; that I am less of a person because of it... So tell me. What have "they" said?_

**"They" have said that being on the spectrum has helped facilitate your abilities with hardlight. Do you think this is true?**

_I'm told I see reality through a different lens. I see it for what it could be. Were I born any other way, perhaps that wouldn't be the case. I suppose I'll never know, but in truth, I'm not particularly worried about finding out the answer to that question. I've never been a fan of hypotheticals regarding the past. The fact is I can do things no one else can. I would never trade that for the world. Why should I change myself to placate others’ expectations?_

**Beautifully said. Last question, I promise! What inspiration do you draw from? What fuels your creations? What sparks the light within Satya Vaswani?**

_In all things, there is but one truth. I simply want to build a better world._

Junkrat finished the last of the article, unsure of how to feel. It was a printed in a magazine published for all to see... and yet it felt too personal. He felt like it wasn’t his place to read it; that he’d seen too much. Maybe it was because he worked with her. Suddenly he was seeing a side of Symmetra he wasn’t entirely sure he recognized. Arrogant? At first yes, but time warmed and humbled her in some ways without diminishing her confidence. The interview showed her as cool and humorless, but he knew better. He looked over the pictures, flicking back and forth at her sitting so stately. She was a queen upon her throne. Who was this writer to question her?

And there was something utterly arousing about her powerful stance. The queen in the photos demanded devotion, and he had a sudden urge to get down on all fours ( _all twos?_ ) and kiss her feet, if she’d have him. It wouldn’t be like Junkertown. That Queen was never meant to rule.

Another photo caught his eye as he turned the final page. There Symmetra gazed out the window of a tall skyscraper in a full-page spread. A futuristic city glimmered out the window, and she stared at it with eyes that were wistful, searching, and longing. Behind her glowed familiar blue models of various designs; possible blueprints for future projects. A little footnote waited for him at the bottom of the page.

-Satya Vaswani looking over Utopaea from her office at Vishkar headquarters. Behind her: a 3-D model of her “Better World”.-

There was a word that perfectly described how Junkrat felt about her at that moment; smitten. Unfortunately, Junkrat was unfamiliar with that word and its definition, and so he was left in consuming frustration and confusion. He liked her! A lot! And he didn’t know what the fuck to do about it! He’d never fallen for such high-hanging fruit before. Knowing he didn’t stand a chance with someone like her made it all the more infuriating. Fortunately, he didn’t have to suffer his own thoughts for very long, as a heavy thudding knock echoed through his door. He jumped from relaxed lounging to alert and upright in a millisecond, hastily stuffing the magazine under his pillow as though it were something to be ashamed of.

“What’s up, mate?” he greeted as he stood in his doorway (hoping he didn’t look guilty... and failing).

“You were havin’ a wank, weren’t ya?” Roadhog said, ignoring any sense of common courtesy. Junkrat scowled.

“Fer once? Can honestly say I wasn’t. Whatcha’ want?”. Junkrat almost wished he had been, if nothing else than to explain the guilt and embarrassment gnawing at his brain. Hog tossed a towel over his shoulder and Junkrat finally noticed his friend was dressed for a day at the beach.

“Gonna’ hit th’pool. Wondered if y’wanna go swimmin’,” Hog offered. Junkrat shook his head in hopes of his friend’s words making sense.

“There’s... there’s a pool here?!” he piped. It was the first he’d ever heard of it (though it certainly explained the occasional whiff of chlorine coming off some of the Talon soldiers).

“But might be crowded, so maybe just a soak in the spa,” his bodyguard added. Junkrat’s eyes bulged with even more surprise.

“There’s a spa here?!”. Roadhog paused and stared at his charge.

“Christ you’re thick, you know that?”.


	8. Ch 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat's crush is consuming his every waking thought, and then some. Matters are made worse when he accidentally shoots someone in the ass. Roadhog gives new meaning to the term "when pigs fly".

Over the course of the following six or so weeks, the Junkers had taken up two new hobbies at Talon that didn’t consist of explosives or property damage. One was chess. He’d kept the board and pieces that Symmetra had made for them in a metal case he’d crafted out of old license plates. It was such a fascinating juxtaposition pulling the futuristic-looking set out of the unassuming, partially rusted box. He and Hog played at least a couple times a week; usually at dinner or in their off time when the communal spaces held an empty table. Junkrat was starting to grow competent in the game, though Hog certainly wasn’t a slouch either.

The other hobby the Junkers started enjoying was swimming. Well, visiting the pool, anyway. Hog would swim perhaps one or two laps before feeling winded and excusing himself to sit in the spa nearby. Junkrat couldn’t swim laps. He had to remove his arm and peg leg so they wouldn’t rust from the chlorine, and made do with floating on an inflatable raft that looked like a crocodile. A few other Talon soldiers had attempted to reprimand them for their lack of common courtesy, but the Junkers had prepared for that scenario by always arming themselves with “Super Splash Cannons”; the latest in squirt-gun technology.

“Hog! Hog, look! They finally put up that high-dive y’wanted!” Junkrat grinned, sitting up straight on top of his bodyguard’s shoulders. With half of his limbs stashed in the locker room, Roadhog acted as both personal security, and sometimes less-than-noble-steed.

“Fuckin’ tits, mate!” Hog replied, the most excited Junkrat had ever seen him before. He’d once admitted to him that he always wanted to join the swim team when he was in secondary school, but his weak lungs wouldn’t let him entertain such activities. Now he had the opportunity to enjoy those sorts of things again. Roadhog tossed Junkrat’s floaty into an empty lap lane and hunched down so his ride could carefully slide off his shoulders and into the water. Junkrat splashed a bit before getting himself properly situated on his reptilian raft. Hog then handed him his overpowered squirt gun (in case of hostiles trying to take over his portion of the pool) and hopped into the section next to him. Water splashed over the edges, slicking the tiles surrounding the area.

Roadhog leaned back and began his slow and steady pace, winding his arms as he took up the entire width of the lane. Junkrat knew the score. He reached into the pocket of his blue board shorts and pulled out bright yellow sunglasses. He flicked them open and slid them onto his face, blocking out the harsh fluorescent lighting surrounding the indoor pool. With the "Super Splash Cannon" tucked up under his partial arm, Junkrat tilted back and relaxed. He'd occasionally dip his lone foot into the water to nudge the raft along. When he bumped into the end of the path, he'd reach back and push himself away from it so he could follow his journey in reverse. Hog had apparently built up a little more stamina over the course of the six weeks and pushed himself to do a full third lap. Wheezing, he pulled himself out and splish-splashed across the tile to catch up with Rat.

"Did... extra... lap!" he huffed and wheezed.

"Saw that, mate! Keep it up, might be able t'fit inta’ that dress you're always lookin' at!" Junkrat teased.

"Fuck... off... lazy... prick!" he grunted right back.

"Gonna'... try... high-dive... Inna'... minnit... Might... puke!" Hog warned.

"Do it over in th'dive pool then," Rat advised, and Roadhog gave a raspy wheezing laugh (which meant his friend would likely survive the ordeal of the additional twenty-five meters). Roadhog walked away to rest on a bench, leaving Junkrat to paddle around in peace and sink deep into his thoughts.

He needed to relax because things were... a mess; at least, in his own head, they were. Most humans tended to experience their first crush much earlier in life, but Junkrat wasn't like most humans. Junker culture approached romance in a much different manner than the rest of the world (in that they ignored the concept altogether). If Junkrat saw a person who revved his engine, he'd approach them for perhaps a quick fuck or something along those lines. If they were willing to engage (or not), then that would be that. Friends and lovers were not something to be mixed in the Outback, and that lesson carried on as he and Hog made it out of Australia and into the great big world. He later learned that the majority of his personal experiences were referred to as "one-night-stands".

He'd heard of romance, crushes, and relationships, of course. He wasn't completely thick! He'd read all about them in the books he'd pinched from what was considered to be the Junkertown library. At fourteen, he discovered that there were advice books for, well, EVERYTHING concerning sex. There were these wild stories where characters met and fell in love BEFORE actually fucking. There were medical books with horrific pictures that explained all the health risks and safety practices pertaining to fucking. There were books filled with advice and techniques for fucking, and since he wasn't much to look at (even by Junker standards), he studied those the most carefully. If he couldn't be handsome, then he'd at least be well-read and talented when the clothes came off. His reputation in that department was probably the only reason he'd lasted as long as he had in Australia. The Queen would have chucked him out long before then if that weren't the case.

Jamison "Junkrat" Fawkes, the mad bomber and world-renowned criminal, was in utter mental shambles from his first crush. She was smart and funny and ambitious and powerful and gorgeous and he'd never been so uniquely attracted to (and intimidated) by another human being in his entire life. He wanted to know more about her. Everything, really. He had a painful urge to take her somewhere to have innocent fun and impress her just so he could possibly convince her to let him try it all over again at a later date. What was that all about?! Maybe if he got that far along, he could entertain the idea of giving her a kiss! It'd be just like all those "rom-com" movies Hog liked watching so much. _This is so fuckin' stupid._

The day after reading her interview, he decided he'd try to fight whatever it was that was happening to him with blatant denial. He continuously tried lying and telling himself that there wasn't anything going on. She was just a friend. A friend just like Roadhog! He was at least correct on that assumption. They'd both gone from "coworkers" to "work friends". Work friends laughed and joked after all, and occasionally grumbled about difficulties on projects (again, according to those stupid movies and shows that Roadhog watched). She'd laugh and her cheeks would change color, and her eyes would sparkle and the sound was so damn cute and... Junkrat figured perhaps it'd be easier if he wasn't, by nature, so damn funny!

She wasn't all perfect, though. One day she snapped at him for making too much noise. She apologized later in the afternoon. She would also grow frustrated whenever he'd leave a mess (so, at a minimum, about three times a week). If he borrowed something of hers and didn't return it to the exact same place she'd always kept it, she'd huff to herself. She was particular about so many seemingly-trivial things, and if he ever tried to poke fun at her about it, she'd grow cold and distant. There were some nerves that he learned to not even approach, and once struck it was best to hastily apologize. Much to his chagrin, she would always forgive him, and he'd land himself right back at square one with all this crush-nonsense!

He thought he'd finally figured out a way to combat the weird stupid emotions swirling in his brain. He tried avoiding her in his off hours. He found it actually helped. Between games of chess, his pool time, and dicking around with Hog (and once in a while, Sombra) he could distract himself long enough to not think about her at all. Serendipity struck, further aiding him when she was called back to Vishkar for a couple weeks to help facilitate some big deal between them, Talon, and Maximilian Enterprises. _There! Out of sight! Out of mind! All this will blow over!_ But a voice in his head worried she'd never come back, and everything else aside he hated the idea of losing an actual friend. He was already in short supply of those as it was.

In the two weeks since her departure, he hadn't thought of her all that much, save for when he'd glance at her desk and let out a small sad sigh. He'd shake his head and mutter to himself that it was for the best, and go back to his work. But on that particular morning before heading to the pool, he finally learned that absence made the heart grow fonder. He saw her in his dreams.

He'd brought upon himself when he made the mistake of flicking through the magazine once more. That's what must have triggered it. It was so vivid that it felt real. They were walking somewhere. Some sort of sidewalk. It was somewhere beautiful and clean, and while he felt out of place, she clearly didn't. He told her a joke. It was a bad one, but she laughed anyway and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. He nervously reached over, taking her hand in his, and laced their fingers together. Her skin was warm and soft, brushing against his own calloused palm.

"Your hand is sweaty," she observed, though not in ridicule.

"S-sorry... Little nervous," he admitted.

"Why is that?" she asked, turning to look in his eyes.

"Cuz... I... I...,". He suddenly couldn't speak. A black band snaked around his mouth, tying tightly behind his head. He pulled and tugged at it.

"You'll never be able to tell me with that covering your mouth. You'll have to untie it yourself. I haven't the hands to do so," she instructed, holding up arms that ended at her wrists.

"Don't worry. It doesn't hurt. They'll come back once you tell me," she added as a hint. He wanted to. He wanted so badly to tell her, but the band just wrapped a little tighter.

“If you don’t figure it out soon, she’ll take me away,” she murmured suspiciously. Junkrat finally managed to dig his fingers under the edges of the band, and tugged it from his face. It was sticky like tar, but he finally pulled it away, and it vanished altogether.

“I like ya'... a lot," he managed to stammer. Symmetra seemed pleased.

“Was it really so hard to speak the truth?”.

“Sometimes,”. She grabbed his real hand with both of hers, pulling him into the building in front of them, and up plush carpeted stairs.

“Where are we going?” he asked, suddenly feeling a bit anxious.

“Exactly where you want to be,”. She stopped in front of a glossy white door and opened it, revealing her bedroom. It was exactly as he’d remembered it from the night he and Hog had taken her there. All clean and stylish. She sat on her bed and looked at him, suddenly wearing the same magenta and gold saree.

“You wanted to kiss me then, didn’t you? Like some prince out of a fairy tale...”

“N-no,”.

“Don’t lie, or the band will come back... you thought about it, didn’t you? I was there, looking so peaceful and beautiful. You wished I would have woken up just as the other two left, so it could be our secret. I’d whisper thank you. I’d be the one to initiate by lifting up... but I didn’t wake up... you wanted to kiss me so badly,”.

“I did,” he confirmed, and shame coursed through him at that admission.

“Why didn’t you kiss me?” she asked.

“Wouldn’ta been right... Want ya’ t’want it, too,”. She reached upward, clasping his hand again, and she pulled him lower towards her as she laid back on the bed. He was hovering over her, his hands pressing against the mattress on either side of her head.

“I want this,” she whispered and looked over to her side. Next to them was a familiar suit coat. She reached over, trailing her fingers across the lapel with a sense of longing.

“I still have this, you know. I sleep with it every night. I find it comforting. My noble prince who saved me,” she murmured. He was excited at first, absolutely thrilled! She felt the same way, and an unexplainable fluttering sensation surrounded his heart and filled his lungs. But cold realization sunk into the pit of his stomach.

“This isn’t real,” he observed. She’d already returned it to him a few days after they came back from Paris (freshly dry cleaned with a handwritten thank you note attached).

“It’s not,” she confirmed, and she ran her hand along the side of his face in soothing strokes, “but I give you permission to pretend,”.

And sadly, that was where his dream had ended. He’d sat up in bed, furious that he was suddenly conscious, and no longer there above her. Furious that it was all fake. Furious that it was something that could never be, and furious that it made him feel even more confused than before. He’d grabbed his pillow out from underneath his head, and smothered it over his face so he could scream into it. A few minutes later, Hog had knocked on his door to invite him for a morning swim, leading him right back to there on the alligator floaty, attempting to shut his brain down.

“Hey, asshole! You’ve been taking up this lane for forty goddamn minutes!” a jarring voice called. Junkrat’s eyes popped open, and his head shot up. Standing at the side of the lap pool were two faces he didn’t recognize. They were wearing the standard-issued black Talon swim trunks that were given to all the male soldiers. The ink of their Talon-symbol tattoos was still fresh and vibrant. They were new recruits, and had no idea who the fuck they were messing with!

“Sod off!” he snapped in warning. They were both lean and muscular. They had pretty faces with cleft chins, strong jawlines, and the beginning stubble of beards. They likely would die on their first mission. The pretty boys always seemed to die first.

“Need to get my cardio in, shithead, so move it!” the second one barked. Junkrat raised his pool toy up and took aim at him.

“Why dontcha’ just pick another lane... or I’ll soak ya!” he deviously grinned. They rolled their eyes, clearly unimpressed with his cannon.

“Sir?” a worried voice called in the background.

“Real genius, aren’t ya’? Threaten us with water when we’re about to go swimming!” the shorter blonde man retorted with a smug smile on his face. He held his arms wide open, offering himself up as a target.

“Sir, uuuuuhhhhh!”

“Water?! Naw, mates. I pissed in this!” Junkrat lied, but his face never wavered to indicate such.

“SIR!” came a distant little yelp, followed by the creak of the diving board.

“C’mon already, you disgusting crip-,”. _How dare they?!_ Before they could finish the sentence, a furious Junkrat lunged off his raft at their feet, but merely splashed down into the water and struggled to upright himself as they laughed at him.

“THE BOARD CAN’T SUPPORT YOUR- OHSWEETJESUSHEJUMPED!”. The trio stopped their fighting, their attention naturally drawn to the lifeguard manning the high-dive. Like a glorious angel, Hog had leaped off the pliable board, launching with his arms stretched out like wings. He brought his knees up towards his chest, and wrapped his massive arms tightly around them, turning himself into a human boulder. Roadhog hit the surface of the water with a colossal splash, and a near tidal wave arced over the cement wall, completely soaking Junkrat’s harassers. They’d lost their balance and fell to the unforgiving tile. Junkrat himself nearly toppled back over and stood up in water that only came to his chest. Roadhog popped back to the surface of the dive pool right at the edge. He grasped the lip, hoisted himself up, and stomped towards them. A giant hand grabbed each of the duo by their necks and held them up at his eye level.

“You don’t get t’call ‘im that. You don’t get t’use that word. GOT ME?!” Roadhog rumbled ever so low and menacingly. They both choked out something that sounded like yes, and Hog dropped them so they could smack the tile yet again. The pair scrambled across the wet floor and were back in the locker room in a matter of seconds. Life quietly went back to normal. Everyone else there was well aware of what you shouldn’t do or say around the Junkers.

“Spa?” Roadhog grunted, holding his hand out. Junkrat agreed, and his friend pulled him out of the pool. Hog helped him hop the short distance to the hot tub bubbling away in the corner. The three nameless soldiers who’d witnessed the goings-on quietly vacated the spa. They didn’t want to risk inadvertently insulting them even further.

Junkrat sunk into the warm bubbling water, hissing as he relaxed. He’d already forgotten about the pair and their insults. Hog had put the fear of God into them, and if that didn’t work, Junkrat would deal with them once he had use of all four of his limbs again. His friend nudged him with something plastic. It was his squirt gun. Junkrat snickered and tucked it back under his arm as his friend stepped in to join him. Hog once again displaced the water, and it sloshed over the edge with a satisfying slap.

“You really piss in that?” he asked as he leaned in the corner across from Junkrat, and pointed at the tank.

“No, but think I might next time,” he cackled, and when his laughter settled down, “But thanks, mate. I owe you one,”. Hog raised up a thumb up in acknowledgment.

“Little shits gotta’ learn peckin’ order ‘round here,” was Roadhog’s take on the subject. The door from the locker rooms swung open and closed several times, and the room started to fill up a touch more. A line formed by the new diving board and Hog assessed the look on the lifeguard’s face. She didn’t look terribly angry, so the board must have been fine.

“Like havin’ th’lab to yerself again?” Roadhog rumbled.

“Huh? Oh! Er... Kinda’ quiet now, actually... not that she was loud or whatever. Least I get the extra workspace. Try t’leave her space alone, though. Be pretty shitty if I wrecked it all while she's gone...” he trailed off. The locker room doors continued to open and shut as swimmers came and went.

“You never gave me back that magazine, by the way... Beginnin’ t’think I may not want it back,” he said, chuckling to himself. Junkrat scowled.

“You’re a creep, y’know that?!”. Roadhog didn’t stop his accusatory laugh and rumble.

“Walked in on ya’ more times than either of us’d care to admit, but sure. I’m the creep,” he replied with a shrug. Junkrat raised the nozzle and aimed it at his friend.

“Izzat right, mate?” he jokingly sneered, “Keep it up, an’ I’ll getcha’ in th’eye!”.

“I’m wearin’ a mask, y’knob!” Roadhog reminded while pointing with a finger, but that didn’t stop Junkrat from frantically pumping the thing, building up the pressure.

“Smile, you son of a bitch!” he cackled, and pressed down on the trigger. A powerful jet of water blasted right at Hog, but the mammoth man had lightning reflexes. He dodged out of the way, and the stream found a different target. Junkrat had inadvertently fired a water missile right up some unsuspecting swimmer’s ass!

She’d been bent over, about ready to dive into the lane for some laps when he hit her. She popped up to attention with a sharp yelp of shock, shielding her backside with her hands. The Junkers stifled snorts of laughter because honestly, the whole damn thing was so funny! ...Until she turned around. _S-SYM?!_

Yes, it was Symmetra. She glared furiously, looking for the culprit, and her eyes zeroed in on him! _Oh my god what th’fuck are you doing here?!_ Sym didn’t have a set return date; only an approximation. There’d been no word of her return, and he’d just assumed she was still out of the country. Well, he learned the hard way that he was misinformed! She stopped, bracing her hands on her hips, staring him down in her black swimsuit and blue goggles. She pushed them on top of her forehead. He could see the fire blazing in her eyes as she honed in on the splash cannon that he still nervously clutched against his body.

“You’re back!” he stupidly piped.

“I am,” she snipped. His own eyes darted downward, and he quickly chucked the offending toy towards the other side of the hot tub.

“Weren’t meant for ya! ...Was aimin’ fer Hog...” he hastily explained.

“You missed,” she clipped. Symmetra then rolled her eyes in exasperation, lowered her goggles back down, and turned back towards her lane, where she proceeded to dive in. A cringing and embarrassed Junkrat slowly sank deeper into the hot tub until everything underneath his nose was submerged.

“Oh yeah. Som mentioned b’fore breakfast that she got in late last night,” Roadhog noted as an afterthought. Junkrat’s brow furrowed and he blew out an angry stream of bubbles that would have been profanities had his lips been above the surface. The door to the women’s locker room swung open rather dramatically, distracting the pair from Junkrat’s wallowing shame. Out stepped, of all people, Moira! She was wearing a sleek emerald one piece; utilitarian and sporty. She slipped a swim cap on, tucking fiery red strands up into it. The suit accentuated her willowy frame and narrow hips. She was all arms and legs with pale skin dotted with noticeable freckles across her shoulders. _Of course she’d be here!_ Junkrat could feel his blood start to boil in a way that couldn’t be blamed upon the hot water.

“Ah! Vaswani! I hadn’t realized you were here!” she called as Sym reached the lip of the pool to catch her breath. It was a damn lie and Junkrat knew it. Hog knew it too, and gave an incredulous snort that went unnoticed. _Some fuckin’ coincidence..._

“Yes. When you mentioned the new diving board during our conference call, it reminded me that I haven’t taken the opportunity to visit the pool at all since I started working here,” she explained. Moira stuck a pair of goggles over her face and stretched her arms and back.

“I will not lie. I’m disappointed in myself. I haven’t been keeping up with my own maintenance over the past couple of months. Been rather busy, what with my current project and all. And to think! I used to be captain of the swim team in my university days,” she huffed nonchalantly. _Big-note yerself much?_

“Ah! I was never on an actual team before. I suppose I’m an amateur swimmer at best. I wouldn’t mind an experienced athlete’s coaching,” she replied, and Junkrat’s stomach twisted into a knot at the sight of Moira’s broad smile.

“Absolutely!” Moira agreed, and she dove in just as Sym kicked off the wall. The pair matched their pace at first but whereas the graceful and flowing Symmetra never lost stride, Moira appeared to struggle part way through their second lap. By the end of it, she clutched the ledge that she dove off of, gasping for breath.

“Moira, are you alright?” Symmetra asked, alarmed.

“Did... I... say... months? I... meant... years...” she gasped with heaving breaths. Symmetra hid her chuckle, and so did Junkrat. The show-off was defeated and Junkrat felt elated! Not that he could do any better, of course.

“Let’s do a slower pace,” she suggested. Red in the face, Moira said she preferred diving anyway, and climbed out to go stand in the line with the other swimmers. Symmetra went back to her laps. Junkrat watched her progress, her hair flowing behind her. He tried not to gawk at the living mermaid gliding through the sparkling blue water. Eventually she climbed out so other soldiers could practice. She rubbed her shoulder as though it were sore, and her eyes flicked towards the spa. _Oh, fuck fuck fuck!_ Junkrat couldn’t handle it! He’d already embarrassed himself enough for one day, and given the subject matter of his dream, he didn’t think his ego could survive the encounter. He tried getting up to leave (even if it meant crawling and hopping away like some sort of startled animal), but Roadhog caught his arm in a fierce grip and tugged him back down.

“You’re a grown-ass man,” his friend reminded.

“An’ I blasted ‘er in the ass not twenty minutes ago!” Junkrat whispered.

“Most blokes’d be happy t’say th’same,” Roadhog muttered under his breath. Junkrat gave a quick little punch to his shoulder, which didn’t even seem to register with his friend.

“What are you gentlemen discussing?” she asked, having finally reached the hot tub. She lowered herself down the steps and came to a seat in the other corner opposite Junkrat.

“Piglets,” Hog fibbed.  
  
“CHEESE!” Junkrat blurted at the same time. He’d panicked and it was the first answer that came out. Symmetra raised a puzzled eyebrow.

“Those are... unexpected subjects,” she commented and leaned back against the wall. He wanted to dip back under the surface and not come back up. He was so damn embarrassed. And why did the embarrassment have to hurt so goddamn much now that he accepted his feelings for her?

“I like cheese,” Junkrat sheepishly answered.

“Me, too,” Hog added, and it struck Junkrat at that moment that maybe BOTH of them were idiots. At least he wasn't alone.

“I see... and the piglets?” she smirked.

“Cute little motherfuckers,” Hog supplied. Junkrat focused on the bubbles foaming up around them, swirling into a tiny whirlpool towards the center.

“Sorry ‘bout gettin’ ya earlier,” he mumbled, incapable of making eye contact.

“I forgive you. I know I was not your intended target. Having said that, I would recommend adhering to the rules on the board over there, and not participate in horseplay,” she said, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back against the ceramic ledge. She let out a relaxed sigh. He tried not to stare. Honestly, he didn’t! He wasn’t staring at her gorgeous face that held the same tranquil expression from the night he laid her unconscious form in her bed. And he certainly wasn’t remembering how he covered her up with his jacket so she’d stay warm. He was, however, blatantly staring at the way the high-powered jets were making her tits jiggle, and it wasn’t until Hog reached over and flicked his ear that he realized he was even doing it. Symmetra’s eyes fluttered back open.

“Nice to be back,” she hummed to herself.

“Oh! Yeah?”.

“Yes. So many people calling upon me day and night. Running from meeting to meeting... But perhaps I shouldn’t bore you with all that. What have you two been up to?”. Thankful that the conversation was taking on a more natural flow, he thought about.

“Finished fixin’ one of the kitchen bots. You’ll be happy to note that they did NOT approve of my redesigns. Shame, really. Thought they’d look a lot cooler with flames painted on 'em,” he grinned, and she feigned a look of surprise.

“Hm. Can’t imagine why!” she sarcastically quipped.

“Been playin’ chess, too,”. The initial awkwardness had worn off, and thank god because he was sick of it!

“Oh really? Well then! Perhaps we should play again. I still have to reclaim my honor for losing the first time!”. A little bolt of excitement lanced through him.

“Yeah! Yeah, that sounds like fun!” he agreed. There! Basic normal friendly conversation! He wouldn’t let this silly crush drive him mad! Symmetra eyed something over on the tile between the two pools.

"I'm going to assume the crocodile over there is a friend of yours," she noted.

"Oh! Mister Snip-Snap? Yeah, well, he needed a walk. Otherwise he gets bitey," Junkrat joked and raised what remained of his right arm as evidence. Symmetra hid her little laugh with the back of her hand.

"You know... I could craft you limbs that you could actually swim with. Resilient. Waterproof. They would move more naturally than your current manual models," she offered.

"Oh! Ah... nah'. I'm good," he quickly answered, and thought about it some more, "Think what I made suits me better. Plus, been fixin' 'em up fer so long... memorized 'em like th'back of m'hand,". He forced a grin at the end. She meant well, but it had always been a touchy subject with him. It had been a long process to find usable parts, and even longer to experiment and adjust it all until he'd deemed his creations acceptable for use.

"A shame. Neural connectors these days have grown quite sophisticated. You'd be able to sense and feel temperature changes, as well as regain some physical sensation." Sym added.

"I'll... I'll think about it," he replied. The idea of no longer having that ghosting sensation would be nice, and perhaps it would put an end to those stupid phantom pains.

The timer for the jets stopped without warning. He didn’t even realize it had a timer to begin with, and the obscuring bubbles and froth vanished in an instant. He could see every inch of her in detail through the suddenly-still water. Sym’s head turned towards the diving board, distracted by the people plummeting down. Her curves, her hair... the mental image of her lying underneath him in his dream... He groped blindly along the edge behind him, located the button for the jets, and punched it back to life. A yawn escaped Sym unexpectedly.

“Goodness! This whole swim and soak had the opposite effect that I was looking for!” she said and slowly stood back up. She twisted the excess water out of her long tresses, and her wet skin glistened.

“I’ll see you two later. Perhaps we can even play a game or two after dinner. Don't forget your board,” she said and climbed back out. Junkrat agreed, waved goodbye, and instinctively fixated on her round backside as she padded towards the locker room door. The metal door finally swung shut, obscuring his sight of her.

“...You can’t stand up right now, can ya?” Hog guessed.

“Nope,” Junkrat answered, not missing a beat.


	9. Ch 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talon is going to Oasis, and Sym has two jobs to do. Moira makes an offer she doesn't expect. A communication error teaches Rat the true meaning of the word "crush".

"This equipment will be utterly useless without it. We need to obtain a sample at the very least," Moira answered. Symmetra once again sat in the dark conference room listening to a mission that could potentially require her skills. The Junkers were seated next to her. She hadn't worked alongside them since the Paris trip. In fact, she hadn’t been sent out on a mission since then, while their services had been called upon a couple times.

"I refuse to send a crew to the Antarctic, Doctor O'Deorain," Akande stated, "We're not properly equipped for such climates. Extraction would be impossible,". Moira appraised Doomfist, seeming to relish being able to look down upon him for once.

"I'm not suggesting that we trek to the end of the Earth. Once that climatologist returned from her botched cryosleep, a considerable amount had actually been successfully removed and transported. Its destination is where I wish to go," O'Deorain explained.

"And where is that?" Akande wondered.

"Why, but at the City That Science Built, of course!". _Oasis!_ She'd managed to briefly visit twice in her life, and she had been enthralled! She'd always entertained the idea of taking a holiday there and explore it properly. Akande lifted his chin and drummed his fingers on the table.

"You have my attention,". Moira's smile grew so broad across her narrow jaw, and she stood a little straighter, clasping her hands behind her back. A map of the buildings and structures of the city lit up behind her.

"I can't be seen stealing a sample, and I'd need to come up with a damn good reason to request it. I'll need a team to break into this facility here, where the sample is being stored, and extract a small amount of it," Moira started while pointing at a building with an odd symbol over it, "I was hoping to utilize your expertise, Miss Vaswani. You're stealthy, and I believe you'd be able to get in and out unnoticed,". Symmetra was both shocked and flattered. A personal request from the doctor for a mission in Oasis?! She almost wondered if she was dreaming that things were working out so well! _Sanjay will be pleased when I tell him this!_ All eyes fell upon her, but she was too elated to notice.

"I will aid in any way possible... Do you have a proposed means of entry and exit?". Moira brought up another screen of blueprints and floated the screen her way. Symmetra flicked through them and stopped to point at one page in particular.

"These tunnels that run underneath... They're not service tunnels... What are they used for?" Symmetra asked.

"Ah! Those are the old emergency evacuation tunnels. In the event of attack or disaster, we ministers could vacate the buildings towards somewhere outside of city limits, but we've since upgraded to short-distance teleportation. They were locked up, and all access points in the buildings are under constant surveillance these days," Moira explained. Sombra gave a snort of boredom.

"P'sh. EASY! I can just scramble-,".

"No!" Moira sharply rebuked, "...Your skills will be required, but I want this to be handled with a degree of caution. Subtlety. Oasis security knows how to handle massive breaches. A small group may have a better chance of getting in and out unnoticed if they play their cards right,".

"If I can find a way to get into the tunnels and unseal the doors, then I will retrieve the sample for you," Sym offered. Moira clearly approved of her answer.

"We are in luck. This morning, the Vishkar Corporation generously offered to donate a new wing for the School of Engineering and Design. As such, it will require the old Anthropology lab to be destroyed... Don't feel bad for Minister Iris. She sweet-talked the council for a new one last year... I digress,". Finally! Symmetra had worked incredibly hard to help broker the deal. It had been Sanjay's personal bargaining chip when it came to lending aid to Talon, Max, and Moira. He was going to get his foot in Oasis's door one way or another, and his deal seemed to become beneficial for Doctor O'Deorain as well.

"Continue," Reaper prodded. Moira pushed the hovering monitor closer towards Junkrat and Roadhog.

"Like I said, the building will need to be destroyed... preferably professionally. Would it be possible to implode the building without damaging the tunnel entrance?" she asked. Junkrat looked wide-eyed at her, surprised that she was asking for his expert opinion. He squinted at the screen and swiped the map around to evaluate the situation.

"Er, maybe... wait... mmm... hmmmm... I don't... I think..." he mumbled to himself.

"An answer today might be nice," Moira snapped. Symmetra thought it rude that she'd ask for his opinion and then dismiss him so quickly. Some things needed time to process and research, and no doubt this was one of them. Junkrat's typically smiling face had scrunched to a scowl.

"No. Too much weight there, and no load-bearin' above it. Once th'buildin' blows, gonna' open up a hole underneath. Gonna' crush a lotta' the tunnel up. Good way t'hide tracks, though," he pointed out. The doctor wrinkled her nose from the negative outcome and tapped her purple-painted nail on her chin in thought.

"I see from the look on your face you have a possible solution," Lacroix observed.

“Covering tracks...,” Moira muttered to herself before her eyes lit back up, “Ah! I may indeed have a possible solution! I’ve never read blueprints before... would this be the entrance to the emergency tunnels in the anthropology building?” she asked, pointing at the correct spot.

“Yep,” Junkrat confirmed.

“Here’s what I propose... That building still has cameras and surveillance all over it. I’ll have you two pose as the demolition crew and set up for Iris’s... the building's destruction. While setting up, I’ll need you to discretely unseal the entrance to the tunnel, and place one of Vaswani’s teleporters inside. Later, she, along with Sombra and Lacroix will port in, locate the dark matter, and secure it. The following day, the scheduled demolition will take place, collapsing the tunnel and destroying the evidence of the teleporter base. Does that sound feasible?”. There were minor details to still work out, but for the most part, it was a solid plan.

“I approve of this. What say you?” Akande asked, turning towards Reaper.

“Approved,” the masked man grunted

“Is everyone capable of playing their part?” their leader asked, eyeing them all with a look that read “not that your opinion matters”. They nodded their compliance, and the meeting was wrapped up. Finer details would be worked out amongst Moira and the others. Symmetra internally smiled at the role she would play, and the eight days of preparation couldn’t pass fast enough!

**.         .         .         .         .**

  
Moira had flown separately in advance back to her home in Oasis, and was expected to wait patiently for Symmetra at the airport; a public appearance to throw off attention should things on Talon's part go awry. Sym drummed her fingers nervously across her knee as her plane descended for landing. Her superior was so ecstatic when she told him the news. He even suggested that perhaps (with the generous endowment from Vishkar) she could work her way into being nominated as a minister herself!

"Think of what this could mean if Vishkar had its own minister at its disposal! This is the opportunity we've been looking for! We'd draw even closer to bringing about order, and you could be the one to make this happen!". His words were both thrilling and a touch frightening. It wasn't that she was scared at the prospect of taking charge. What means would we take? _After Rio... That was such a small scale compared to the rest of the world._

The plane landed. She waited patiently for the flight attendant to empty her row and turned a judgmental eye over all the people standing at once as though they were just going to exit whenever they wanted. Fighting throngs of people roaming the airport, she managed to collect her luggage and found the doctor waiting for her near the airport entrance, where cabs drove away with passengers inside or idled in hopes of gaining some. Moira flagged her down, and Symmetra hardly recognized her. She wasn't dressed in her typical shirt, tie, and lab coat. Instead, she was wearing a black feminine cut tee with some bright colorful animated characters on it. Her blue jeans were slim cut and cuffed so as to showcase bright violet canvas high-top sneakers. A handful of rubber bangles circled her wrists. She pushed her sunglasses up on top of her head and waved before turning around to catch a driver's attention.

"Long time no see!" Moira casually greeted. Symmetra let out a chuckle.

"I must admit I hardly recognized you dressed so... informally,". Moira raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a woman of many secrets, Vaswani, and now you know one of them... I hate dressing up. I'll take denim and shirts without buttons any day, but one must keep up with appearances," she admitted, "Oh! Let me help you with your luggage!". Before Sym could protest, the driver popped the back open, and the doctor placed her suitcase and toiletries bag inside. She closed the trunk and opened the passenger door.

"My lady," she said, ushering Symmetra in with her head tilted downward.

"Th-thank you," she hastily replied and slid inside. Moira's gesture had been polite, but the awkwardness of it made Sym bite the inside of her cheek. She leaned forward and gave the Omnic driver her destination.

"Language: English. Destination: Oasis Heights Hotel. Estimated travel time: twenty minutes. Buckle up, passengers!" the cheerful robotic voice announced. She wondered what differentiated Omnics and their level of complexity. Max spoke and behaved much more naturally. He had personality and nuances. Perhaps their driver was an older model, incapable of updating its AI software.

"Oh! Splurged on staying at the Heights? I heard Oasis Springs has a nicer pool," Moira observed.

"Yes, but the Heights has a better view of the libraries and the gardens. And I doubt I'll have time to swim as it stands," she explained.

"Ah. If you're a fan of the view, then perhaps you should visit my place sometime. Ministers get their own tower flats. Mine overlooks the same area, as well as the gondola docks. You can see them coming and going all day... Just floating off..." Moira offered, her voice trailing off and lost in thought.

"That sounds lovely. A wonder you'd ever leave such a place," she replied. Moira wasn't always around at Talon's headquarters. Duty called her back every now and again, and it wasn't uncommon for any of the ministry to have multiple homes spread across the globe. Her companion gave a groan of annoyance and buried her face in her palm.

"Ugh... I'm also a stone's throw away from Iris's tower and I can see RIGHT into her bedroom. Oh God! There was the one time we all went out to celebrate the new library expansion and after she became completely legless she and her seventy-year-old husband went home and... You know what? Best neither of us suffer such details," Moira answered, cringing as though she'd witnessed the vilest thing imaginable.

"Agreed,". _It is probably in my best interest to not imagine a potential peer in such a state._ The cab pulled up to the hotel, and Moira not only helped her with her luggage, but she stayed while she checked into her room and even carried her bags up for her.

"Ah... Thank you, Moira. I appreciate it," she said, nervously swiping the keycard for her room. She followed her right inside without asking, and Symmetra tightened her grip on her purse strap. _How brazen!_ Thankfully, the doctor didn't linger long.

"I'll let you settle for now. Tomorrow we're scheduled for our final walkthrough of the old Anthropology offices before demolition, but we'll have time to grab lunch beforehand. I'd love to give you a proper tour of the grounds,". It was a statement, rather than an invitation. Sym wasn't entirely surprised. She was Vishkar's representative and if they were to build the new engineering wing, of course she would both need and want to take a proper tour. She agreed (though she suspected that she didn't have much choice in the matter), and Moira left.

Symmetra stretched her arms and back, and kicked off her shoes. She'd reserved one of the corner suites and was pleased with the decision. Though it certainly wasn't cheap, it was spacious, clean, and tastefully decorated in a way that pleased her. She padded over towards the window and tapped the control panel. The blinds obscuring her view slid aside, revealing the city in all its glory. It was utterly breathtaking. Gleaming. Clean. It was nothing like the overcrowded cities she was used to crawling through (courtesy of head office). A few of the gondolas floated across sapphire canals. Perhaps she'd find an excuse to ride one on the next day's tour. _This place is to my liking._

The tour would be with Moira though, and her earlier interactions with her made her feel conflicted. The doctor's behavior was... confusing. She was starting to come off as one of those sorts of friends that insisted upon doing things their way; abrasive. _I shouldn't feel such ways about an acquaintance. I shouldn't..._ Complicating things even further was the physical attraction she was starting to feel. Symmetra's taste in both men and women were the same; Tall, lean, narrow-jawed and hipped, and (ideally) freckled, and the doctor certainly filled every box on her checklist. _I need to give her a proper chance. Our interactions are few and far between as it stands. But I should also keep this professional on all accounts and not grow too attached to her, be it just friendship or otherwise... But I haven't had a proper orgasm in over six months and she's SO... But even if we grew to that point, it would just make things needlessly complicated with work and everything in between. Office friendships are one thing, but romances are terrible ideas..._

She buried her face in her palms, frustrated (mostly with herself). She was once again overthinking things, making herself feel unsure. It was an infrequent occurrence and only seemed to happen when it came to "extracurricular activities". _I could always ask... him._ Yes, he fit her physical checklist too, much to her chagrin. _Perhaps I could convince him to shower more... wear some proper clothes..._ An image of Junkrat stretching the other day popped into her head. Her gaze had swept over him, and her eyes had trailed downward without her permission; the deep cutting lines of his abdomen, the trail of blonde hairs that led from his navel, and dipped under the hem of his shorts and... She let out an exasperated groan. _If I'm even considering THAT, then I certainly must be desperate!_

The mere idea of sleeping with her coworker (one whom she shared a lab with and saw every day) seemed stupid. She tried convincing herself that it could be a simple no-strings-attached one-nighter; "friends with benefits", even, because he certainly wasn't the sort of person she could enter a non-platonic relationship with. Their personalities contrasted too much for that. It simply wouldn't work out. _How would I even know if I'd even LIKE having sex with him? I've never even..._ The closest she'd ever gotten to penetrative sex came courtesy of a few encounters with understanding partners and a rather state of the art vibrator (which she'd unfortunately forgotten back in Utopaea). Symmetra flopped down on the plush hotel bed and stared at the mosaic-tiled ceiling. _It's not like he'd even be interested in that sort of thing. Not with me, anyway._

Ever since the whole incident at the pool, he'd avoided her altogether, even going so far as to not come into the lab at all most days. She'd reminded him in passing that he owed her a game of chess, but he came up with multiple excuses to not play. Had she offended him somewhere along the way? _I am being ridiculous. How can I even entertain the idea of sex when I can't even keep friends?_ Another frustrated sigh escaped her. She closed her eyes and undid the top button of her khakis. She'd put an end to her mental turmoil one way or another (if only temporarily).

**.         .         .         .         .**

"Well! If that doesn't constitute as a power suit, then I don't know what will!" Moira greeted. Symmetra wanted to impress O'Deorain the only way she knew how; with professionalism! She'd purposefully packed the mightiest tool in her business arsenal: A stark white blazer and matching pencil skirt paired with her bright blue blouse and tall pumps. Nothing in the world could stop her, but it all paled in comparison to her guide's clothes.

"Thank you, but I suppose I haven't a leg to stand on right now... Do you always wear your ministry robes when home?". Moira donned her extravagant and futuristic Ministry regalia. Billowing sleeves hung from her wrists. Her peplum came down low on each side of her hips. A chest plate engraved with the double helix of her department hugged her torso, and her gleaming helm was illuminated in spots. At that moment, Moira was regal but also imposing; a queen upon a throne. It was a touch difficult for Symmetra to process it. That was usually HER position!

"Not always, but I have reason today...," she cryptically started, "I'm starving though. We'll need to hurry if we wish to catch our reservation,". _Ah. So I have no say in the matter._ Symmetra nodded in agreement, keeping her opinion to herself, and tried to justify Moira's decision. _She lives here. She would know better than I which restaurant is better than the other._ Moira smiled and ushered her to walk alongside her.

"Would the restaurant be reachable by gondola? I've always wanted to ride on one," she asked. Moira chuckled.

"Those? Only tourists ride in those. Although, ceremony calls upon us to do so every so often," her guide explained.

"I see,". She didn't sound dejected, but a small pang shot through her heart. _I'll just ride one on my own later._

"Well, everyone should have the experience at least once. Might as well get it out of the way now," Moira smirked, and Symmetra felt a sense that the doctor knew something she didn't.

"In answer to your question, there are none to get us to the restaurant, but there'll be one that can take us from there to where we'll need to be," she added. A smile tugged at the corners of Symmetra's mouth. She was pleased, and that continued through their ride and their meal.

The place Moira had selected was beautiful, the menu surpassed her expectations, and their conversation fell back into a less awkward and comfortable state. They mostly just reminisced about their own respective youths. Symmetra told her she was in the chess club, and that one time she cut class to see a movie with a few of her friends. Moira spoke of being on the swim team and her days as head of her school's animated film club. She spoke, well, animatedly about her secret little passion. Sym learned that there was still quite a dedicated following surrounding old animated shows and movies (most specifically from Japan). Apparently, they were very cutting-edge works of art in their hay-day and were preserved via pop culture.

"Oh, you should watch it, Vaswani. The ending will bring anyone to tears! I can lend it to you if you'd like. It's only two hundred episodes," she offered. Sym replied with a friendly "perhaps". While tragic endings were not her favorite, Moira had described the show so well, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't interested (though she found the series length daunting). Her answer appeased the doctor. An Omnic waiter floated up to their table to give them the bill, and she reached for her wallet in her purse.

"No need, dear. I've got this," she stated, hastily grabbing the black little billfold from the waiter's metal hand.

"Nonsense. I can classify this as a business expense," she tried to explain. She flicked her wallet open and looked up to assure her companion. Moira's eyes shone a little less bright; crestfallen. She held her own sort of credit card for display. A holographic seal glimmered, and the lettering surrounding it read "Oasis Ministry".

"All my expenses are comped, too," she stated. Symmetra accepted Moira's offer and slipped her wallet back into her purse.

"Then you have my thanks," she said with a forced smile. It was a power play, and she had lost. Once again that same sensation swirled in her mind. She liked many aspects about her companion, but there were still some that she found grating. _Although..._ she hated to admit it, but she also liked the challenge the doctor was offering her. What had at first frustrated her was slowly starting to intrigue her. The waiter came back a few minutes later with Moira's card and receipt.

"Thank you for your patronage, Minister O'Deorain," he said, bowing his head slightly. She rose from her chair and beckoned her onward.

"Come now, dear. I believe the gondolas are calling,".

Moira's position once again led to special privilege. They were allowed to the front of the dock, and received a boat all to themselves. They stood upon the floating vessel, and the engines hissed to life. The breeze blew Symmetra's hair back, and she ran her fingers over the gleaming gold handrail. Despite the desert heat, the air was crisp and clean, and the city slid by them at an enjoyable pace. Symmetra was enthralled, and Moira took the opportunity to stand beside her.

"This view from here is beautiful, too... I often take this place for granted," she admitted.

"It makes me miss Utopaea, but dare I say I may be growing to like this place more," Sym also admitted. Utopaea had been paradise on earth for her, but the lifeblood sustaining it had always been business and commerce, whereas Oasis's heart came off as nobler. Learning, science, innovation; here she began to feel more at home.

"You should move here,". It came out more as a statement than a suggestion, and the frankness of it caught her by surprise. Her grip tightened on the handrail.

"I know why Vishkar chose you to join Talon," she continued. Sym turned her head, averting her gaze from the metropolis. She was looking up into Moira's eyes.

"Because I'm the most qualified candidate for the position,". Was the doctor trying to insinuate otherwise?

"Of course there's that. Talon needed a position filled, and they seized the opportunity... I know you were also sent to charm me, and ideally the rest of my peers. Pave the way. I suppose they'd want more than just the corporate name on a building. They want access to the Ministry... Good old-fashioned lobbying,".

"I am no lobbyist. Our singular mission is to bring order to the world. Oasis captures our mission statement and ideas perfectly. Our fates are entwined,".

"Are they, now? I've never been one to trust too much in thoughts like that, but I'm starting to like the sound of it,". Their conversation was interrupted by the cry of a few gulls; an unexpected sound in the middle of the desert. Moira turned away to regard the birds.

"When the new wing is built, Oasis will need a Minister of Engineering... I think you'd be a perfect fit for the position,". Symmetra's heart stopped beating; not in worry, but in amazement.

"That... I would like that very much," she murmured. Becoming a minister meant she could focus on study and advancement in technology. It meant she could bring true change to the world; not just increased profits for her employer.

"You would have to quit Vishkar, of course. Ministers can't be affiliated with the corporate world," Moira informed, and once again Symmetra's heart stopped beating.

"What? I... I don't... Moira," she stammered, grasping for a way to explain to her why that was no easy thing to ask of her, "I am the woman I am today only because of them,".

"Nonsense, Satya! THEY are the business they are today because of YOU! You don't owe them anything... You were meant for greatness. If you weren't, then I'd never have chosen you for the position at Talon,".

"You... I don't understand. I thought Vishkar nominated me for the position,". Moira let out a chuckle and turned to casually lean back against the railing and appraise her.

"I suppose it's a little of column A and B, actually... Last year, I was waiting in line at, of all places, a grocery store when I first noticed you. Or rather, your magazine cover. I'd heard of hardlight before and was intrigued... Ever since I read your interview, I added you to my mental checklist of fascinating people. When the opportunity to meet you presented itself, I had to jump upon it. I- WE couldn't miss the chance of working with you," the doctor explained.

"I am flattered. Truly... but-,".

"You have more than enough time to think about it. Like I said, the selection process won't even begin for another year," Moira interrupted. Her pale hand slid across the railing and came to a rest on top of Sym's in what felt like a reassuring manner. She looked down into her eyes.

"You were meant for greatness," she repeated. A chill ran up Symmetra's spine. She opened her mouth to say something, but her words stalled in her brain. What could she even say? Thankfully, a voice broke the heavy silence between them.

"Now arriving at Academic Campus: South dock," the programmed voice called from a speaker. Moira pulled her hand away and stood straight and noble.

"And now for our tour," she said with a smile.

The campus was vast, and many people chose to ride on hovering platforms. It seemed the doctor was in the mood to stretch her legs, or perhaps she just wanted an excuse to drag out the tour and hopefully convince her on the spot. Symmetra did appreciate the view around her. The gondola had given her only a glimpse of Oasis's outer shell, and she was starting to appreciate her new perspective even more.

"It'll be nice to see this building gone," Moira muttered to herself as they drew closer to the old Anthropology wing. Symmetra had to admit that it was the closest to observing something unsightly within the city's limits. The brick building was weathered and blocky. It lacked the clean aesthetic and sense of uniqueness that its fellow departments held.

"And Minister Iris? You said she already has a new facility in the works?". Moira nodded to confirm and went on in some detail of her rival's gloating. She couldn't decide whether the back and forth between the two was unseemly or hilarious. Apparently, it all started with a stolen parking space.

"The car park merely had numbers! I assumed it was for metering purposes! No one at head office had told me they were reserved!" she rambled; a case of her refusing to bow down to a traditional pecking order. In her own words, she's always been considered a rebel and often times misunderstood. She painted herself to be a "badass in the scholarly world", and after Sym had done a touch of research on her, she wasn't surprised. While she only had access to public files, they confirmed what she was claiming, if only slightly.

"G'day, ladies!". His voice was raspy, ever-chipper, but jarring. A beaming smile radiated from his face. His eyes were bright, shining like chips of amber. A happy-go-lucky Junkrat seemed to simply appear before them; a rodent popping out of his burrow.

_What are you doing?!_ Once again, Junkrat hadn't followed orders. At least, not thoroughly. He was in his fake uniform; a skin-tight black shirt with a yellow patch that read "DEMO". Leggings ran down his skinny thighs. His own black shorts still hung baggy, though it looked like he'd at least managed to wash them. It was the closest to a workman's uniform that he was ever going to get, and therein was the issue. He was a workman, and he was approaching a Minister so openly and casually! There was the added worry of being spotted together again, too. While it hadn't been specifically forbidden in the briefing, she assumed it was more than implied. _Common sense is not his typical practice._

"Excuse me?!". Moira's voice was sharp and cold. Junkrat's happy greeting had only triggered her anger, and his face immediately switched to worry and dread.

"Er, afternoon?" he tried, hoping that sounded more official.

"Is there a particular reason you're approaching us?" she asked, her voice dripping with venom.

"I... er... was just...,". _He was just trying to be polite..._ No! Why was he screwing up?! _Why now?! All this time he's been hiding from me, and NOW he chooses to be friendly and amiable again?_ Perhaps he thought of himself as being in character but it was still something that didn't happen in Oasis. He hadn't done enough research, it seemed.

"Thought y'might want a proper tour guide fer'...," and he thumbed over his shoulder at the barely-derelict building. His excuse sounded feeble, but at least it was some sort of rebound so no one within earshot would make note of their peculiar behavior.

"No thank you," Moira spat. Sym scrabbled at a way to remind him of his role; that he should stay back and not try to speak with them further. That for the time being, he stood in a different place. _That's it!_ She looked him in the eye for added sincerity.

"Know your place," she cooly stated. Junkrat's eyes popped open at her words before shooting down to his foot.

"Yeah," he started, and turned, "My place. Sorry. Must'a fergot,". He stomped off nearly as quickly as he'd arrived, joining up with Roadhog who wasn't terribly far off. The pair started pulling crates and supplies out of a specialized vehicle that read "Phoenix Fire Demolition". _Phoenix fire... a fitting name. The old bird will die wreathed in fire and will rise from its ashes to be better than before._ Moira was finally approaching the building's main entrance.

"Idiot'll get himself sacked for that. Good riddance," she muttered, and Symmetra nearly tripped.

"Sacked?" she whispered. No one had been close enough to hear the exchange between the three of them. At least, not in detail. The doctor wasn't wrong though. There had already been that close call in China, and now this?

"Well, he will be, once we get back and I have a word with-," Moira added while reaching into a hidden pocket sewn into her billowy sleeve. Symmetra had to step in!

"Please don't!" she said, cutting off the doctor's words. Moira's eyes darted in their sockets, assuring that there was no one around, nor within view of a security camera.

"Why shouldn't I?". Why indeed? Sym didn't want to risk the progress she'd made all day with pleas for mercy, but would the doctor understand? Would she understand the sensation of literally hanging on for dear life? Had she ever experienced the rush of relief of another person coming to the rescue? Had anyone ever risked their own lives to save hers? She'd been initially his rescuer, and he hadn't hesitated for a single moment in returning the favor. Though she still couldn't entirely wrap her head around it, deep down she knew a special (and very unlikely) bond could possibly be forming between her and Junkrat.

"Moira, I have no right to ask you for favors, but please... Please don't tell anyone about this... He put his own life in danger for me in France," she explained, hoping her answer would suffice. The doctor's eyes narrowed.

"You're a very thoughtful person, Vaswani, and I can see why you think you owe him... Very well. I'll do this favor for you, in exchange for a favor for me," she agreed, and finally fished out the keycard. _What sort of service could I ever do for her? What could she possibly ask?_ Symmetra's palm began to sweat.

"Neither of us leave here until the day after tomorrow. I'd rather not spend all my time alone. We'll have dinner tomorrow,". _Dinner?_ Could she save her friend's skin all in exchange for a simple meal with her? The offer was so unexpectedly easy that it made her pause in surprise (and then she realized that the pause was still going on).

"Oh! Of course!" she scrambled in reply. Moira's set jaw once again softened with a satisfied smile.

"Doctor's orders, of course,".

**.         .         .         .         .**

Junkrat had never been to Oasis, though he had heard of it. The pictures of it always reminded him of something out of a film; a glimpse into some futuristic world. It was everything opposite of Junkertown. He could see why Symmetra had looked so happy at the initial briefing. This was her sort of place, not his. That wasn't to say he didn't want to look around and sight-see, but a job was a job, and he had to pretend he was some bloke who (legally) made buildings IMplode, not EXplode. He did manage to talk Hog into taking a ride on one of the gondolas, seeing as how they had enough time for that and were wearing pretty convincing disguises. Everyone knew the old wing was going to come down the following morning, and his own personal set-up wouldn't take as long as most folk would think. He was smart like that. Hell! Maybe he DID belong there after all!

"Jamison Fawkes, Minister of Engineering... Has a certain ring to it!" he grinned as they rode along the canals. Roadhog snorted, and Junkrat made the choice to assume it was in agreement. His imagination took over as he looked over the shining handrail. In his imagination, he was some sort of swarthy pirate looking for plunder ( _heheh... an' booty!_ )

He liked boat rides. It was one of the things he was most excited for when he and his bodyguard finally made it to Sydney all those years ago. Seeing the ocean for the first time (outside of pictures) had been one of the few good memories he could never forget. He made sure to burn it into his mind; the smell of sand and saltwater, the sounds of the crashing waves, and the expanse of vibrant blue that stretched on for countless kilometers. _Mmmm... blue..._ Maybe that was yet another reason he was so drawn to...

"That Sym?" Hog grunted.

"Wot?" Junkrat said, shaking his head to come out of his trance-like state. Hog lifted a heavy hand and pointed at a boat rounding the same corner behind them. It had been angled just enough for them to get a good look at the people aboard, and they weren't hard to miss. There were only two of them; a woman with long black hair in a bright white suit with a splash of blue peeking out, and another person far taller than her. A shock of red was visible beneath some sort of headpiece and there was no doubt in his mind who it was standing next to her.

"Looks like it," he grumbled, his good mood slowly deflating.

"Oh look honey! Is that one of the ministers behind us?" a woman standing behind them quietly gasped. The other tourists standing around them rushed towards the side to get a better look, and Junkrat turned away.

"Why ya' hidin' from 'er," Hog bluntly piped.

"Wot?!" he asked, his jaw hanging from the sudden question.

"You heard me. You ain't been in yer lab all that much. Keep comin' up with bullshit excuses t'get the fuck outta' sight when she comes by. You scared a' her or somthin'?". As always, Hog hit the nail on the head, or rather, hit really close to it. Was it fear? Maybe it was just fear of the unknown, and he hadn't felt that, well, ever in his life before.

"Not... not afraid a'her, exactly," he mumbled back, and his face ignited red. Hog stared him down, but had an epiphany.

"Aw mate, you got it that bad?".

"Shut it,".

"Now I really don't want that magazine back," Hog quipped right back.

"You about done?" Junkrat snapped, and Hog chuckled before settling down. Their boat was starting to come to a stop to unload passengers, making their dock the next stop.

"Thought you said you two were friends though," his bodyguard prodded, picking the conversation back up.

"We are," Junkrat hastily assured. The woman who'd noticed Moira edged past him, bumping his shoulder. He glowered at the retiree in her ugly windbreaker, and she scuttled towards the plank to get as far away from him as was possible.

"Friends shouldn't hide from each other," Hog pointed out.

"What's it to ya'?". The voice over the PA announced the next stop and estimated time of travel before it departed.

"If you're gonna' tell someone you're friends, be a friend. Don't be one a'those gits that lies about that sorta' shit. Tired a'seein' her face get all sad when you go runnin' off,". Roadhog folded his arms and Junkrat sneered at him. _Stupid Hog... gotta' make me feel like shit. Gotta' be Mister WisePig._ Junkrat drummed his fingers across the handrail; metal clinking against metal. Fear and anger were quickly replaced by something else: guilt. Some friend he was turning out to be.

He stewed and grumbled as they exited the stopped gondola, but once they actually entered the campus, all of it was forgotten. The lecture halls and towers were still just as mesmerizing as they had been the first time they'd passed them that morning. Their sightseeing over, they came back to the fake demo van and began to take inventory of their supplies. Junkrat pulled out a roll of blueprints with his plans drawn out in thick black marker.

"Alroight, let's get this place wired up, mate," he started, looking at where he wanted to begin. He glanced over the top of the blueprints, and caught sight of her. Hog had been correct. The shapes on the other boat had indeed been Symmetra and Moira. Hog was also correct in that he was being a git and a shitty friend, and Junkrat decided then and there that it was time he fixed that! It could start with him "getting into character". He wasn't Junkrat, skulking from Symmetra. He was (after looking down at the fake name embroidered on his shirt) Derek! Derek, who worked for Phoenix Fire Demolition. Derek could be someone who was chipper, knowledgeable, and helpful. He'd start by offering the both of them a tour of the soon-to-be-demolished target.

"G'day, ladies!" he greeted with a smile. Moira locked him in a withering stare, made all the more imposing by her official robes and headgear.

"Excuse me?!". _Shit... I fucked up again, didn't I?_

"Er, afternoon?" he tried. Perhaps "G'day" was too informal and too telling of his country of origin. If he tried, he could perhaps attempt a South African accent.

"Is there a particular reason you're approaching us?". He knew the doctor didn't like him, but why was she being such an asshole? Was she turning her nose up at him for no other reason than to make herself seem more important? He wouldn't doubt it.

"I... er... was just... Thought y'might want a proper tour guide fer'...,".

"No thank you," Moira interrupted. His eyes darted to Sym for rescue. They were friends! Surely, his friend would help him salvage the situation, right?

"Know your place,". Her eyes, which usually glittered brightly, were focused upon him. He felt a chill wash over him as those three little words sliced at his heart. _M... my PLACE?!_ Was that what she really thought about him? That he was beneath her? That he was nothing more than some... commoner? Like some sort of peasant from old fairy tales? He looked back down at his feet.

"Yeah. My place. Sorry. Must'a fergot," he mumbled, and turned away. At that moment, Junkrat learned why they were called crushes.


	10. Ch 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symmetra and Junkrat squabble before her mission. Sym and Sombra run into unexpected trouble during the dark matter retrieval. Junkrat continues to sulk and be "that guy", and Roadhog is in no mood for it. Moira seizes the opportunity to make a few jabs at the Junker's unrequited crush.

Symmetra sat in the back of the fake demolition van adjusting her headset for the evening's work. She tried ignoring the similarities between the current mission and her first, as she found it to be distracting. There were the similar means of entry, the tunnel path, the collection and exit, and Junkrat's unexplainable cold shoulder. Perhaps that was the part that was the most distracting. She chalked it up to embarrassment at first. He'd nearly blown their cover, and Moira had stayed angry about it long after they finished up their walkthrough. She met back up with him and Roadhog late into the night, the first one of the infiltration team to arrive. He barely nodded when she greeted him.

"You 'bout done in there? Gotta' load back up," he clipped with a quick knock. Sym sighed and slid her headset on. _And now for a return to his usual brusqueness..._

"Yes," she said and pushed the heavy back doors open. She hopped back onto the concrete and stepped out of the way. _I wish the others would arrive._ Still dressed in his faux uniform, Junkrat bumped past her with a wide crate and didn't apologize. His embarrassment was quickly evolving into blatant rudeness.

"Do you require assistance?" she asked, mostly to better assess what was causing such mixed signals. Why was he in such a peculiar mood lately?

"Wouldn't want t'bother ya'," he snipped. _That sounds like annoyance at best..._

"It wouldn't b-,".

"I said I got it!" he snapped, interrupting her. Symmetra snapped her jaw shut, and her eyes narrowed in speculation.

"You are cross with me, I take it?". Junkrat placed the crate down in the back of the cargo area and secured its clamps.

"Not my place t'be cross," he muttered. He passed by her again to grab a metal case from the transfer pile, his peg leg clicking sharply against the cement.

"So I have given you offense?" she asked, hoping he'd give her an answer she could work with.

"Not my place t'take offense," he replied in an icy tone. _That was clearly sarcasm._ Something had rankled Junkrat, though she couldn't think of what. Did something else happen that set him in such a state? Was he just taking his anger out on anyone within close proximity?

"Junkrat... It's obvious something is upsetting you, but that doesn't give you the right to take it out on me when I have nothing to do with it," she clipped right back, folding her arms in front of her and cocking her hip to the side. Junkrat stopped in his tracks with a case in hand and turned to look back at her with the most incredulous face she'd ever witnessed.

"Nothin' t'do with it?! You seriously tryin' t'tell me that?!". Symmetra didn't flinch at his words.

"Since I have done nothing to give you offense, then yes, that is what I am say-,".

"Look, don't you come th'raw prawn with me!" he barked while setting the case down in the back of the van. Symmetra raised a curious eyebrow in response.

"I don't know what that means," she truthfully replied. The words he spoke were all English, though strung together they made no sense to her.

"Means stop treatin' me like a fuckin' idiot,".

"I see..." she said, still not understanding how his choice in phrasing could possibly translate to that, "And when have I treated you like an idiot?". Perhaps she'd looked down upon him on the first mission, but time had given her a glimpse of the Junkers that had changed her perception. _Surely by now he knows that..._ There was hardly any light surrounding the vehicle, but Symmetra could still see his facial features transition back to sullen and sulking.

"You think you're better than me, don't ya'?". His accusation blindsided her, and she tried to think back on what and when she could have said or done to possibly give him that notion. She figured they'd long since surpassed that awkward first stage of their acquaintanceship.

"Junkrat, this is ridiculous. Surely by now you know that is not the-,".

"You high-an'-mighty Suits think it's alright t'look down on me. Why? 'Cause Imma' thief? Is that it?!" he growled. While his frequent interruptions were starting to grate on her, his statement caused her to pause in thought. Symmetra appraised him, still dressed in his demolition uniform with his name tag and official badge hooked on his belt, and gave him a forced smirk that lingered somewhere between sad and frustrated.

"May I point out the irony that here you are dressed in an official demolition uniform while I am about to break in and steal a sample of a highly volatile substance, and for all intents and purposes, I am the thief here, and YOU are the Suit?". Junkrat straightened, his eyes widened as though she'd struck him.

"And may I also point out the irony that YOU are looking down on ME for some crime I am unaware that I even committed?" she added. Junkrat's nose first scrunched, but his features softened, and finally, he spat it out.

"Y'told me t'know my place... Like I'm some dog that ain't got th'right t'even look at ya',". His mumbled admission came honestly and also with palpable sadness.

"Yes, Junkrat. I was reminding you to know your place in the mission. You were a workman approaching an Oasis Minister as if she were a common groundskeeper. That is incredibly unnatural and inappropriate behavior here. You nearly blew our cover," she explained.

"An' how's a guy like me s'pose t'know that, hm?!" he retorted. Symmetra could hear heavy breaths wheezing away from the other side of the vehicle and she realized they were arguing in front of an audience. Roadhog's short pointed ponytail popped over the top of the top of the roof like freshly sprouting tulip leaves. She bit the side of her cheek and squared her jaw. _If Roadhog is listening... So be it._ What Junkrat's bodyguard thought of the situation would remain a mystery.

"Research, Junkrat. It's why we are given such finely detailed briefings. It's why I tried reminding my friend to remember his orders. It's why..." she trailed off. _Know your place._ Her words echoed in her head, as did the memory of his falling face, and she realized just how hurtful they sounded and why (when taken out of context) it could have been so painful for a person like him to hear. She'd read his files, and his picture was growing clearer _...It's why I begged Moira to not report you..._ She took in a heavy breath.

"It doesn't matter now," she said with a sigh, "Though unintentional, it appears my choice of phrasing caused you to grow upset, and that is not what I wish to happen. I'm sorry," she offered; a neat and tidy apology (which she hoped he'd accept without a fuss). Unfortunately, she couldn't linger any further on the subject, because the rest of the infiltration team started to arrive. A vehicle drove up and parked next to the van, and Lacroix and Sombra stepped out of the back. _Wait... if they are both passengers, then who is driving?_ She'd had a cab drop her off at a nearby theater as a cover-up of her whereabouts, whereas the other two had initially planned to drive separately.

"Come now, let's get this over with,". Moira was once again dressed casually. One could almost say incognito. She covered her frame with a baggy black hoody that hung off of her like an empty drab sack. She hid her flaming red hair with a knitted cap, though a few tufts sprouted from the point of her slight widow's peak. Sym's headset zeroed in on her, lighting her silhouette. She much preferred her in her etherial Ministry robes.

"Doctor O'Deorain! What a surprise!" Symmetra greeted. _What is she doing here?_ Someone at her level of authority was capable of making changes to the plans at will, though it felt rather unexpected.

"Ah. Back to formalities," Moira muttered to herself before looking back up, "It's not my preference to see to matters personally, but I will see them done. I also figured it best to stick close for emergency purposes. I brought along a proper first aid kit with me this time around,". It seemed like a sufficient explanation.

"Always gotta' babysit, don't you, tia?" Sombra chided, dressed in her bright leather coat, and lit up with circuity here and there. _She isn't dressed subtly, but then again, I suppose neither am I._ The irony that Junkrat had thought the same of her at first was not lost upon her.

"I'm not your aunt, you brat. But, yes, that is exactly what I'm doing," Moira answered.

"Are we ready to go?" Lacroix asked, more as a prod than anything else. Symmetra took her cue and went back towards the Junker's van. She started forming the familiar shapes and constructs of her teleporter and placed the base on the ground, where it proceeded to blossom open like a flower.

"Oo! Style points for the turn-on. Do all Vishkar teleporters do that?" Sombra wondered as she looked at the blue portal hovering over the device's center.

"Mine do. I always add a touch of my own artistic expression in my creations wherever I can," she replied, enjoying the genuine compliment. Sombra gave it another appreciative once-over before turning to her own pockets and belts to check that she had everything with her. Sym reached into the back of the van and popped open the case for her photon projector. She powered it on; its familiar blue light snapping to life.

"Your tech is quite impressive, too. Did you design it yourself?". Symmetra had to admit that the hacker always intrigued her. She was courteous enough to her in passing, and it was almost always in passing because she always seemed to be running here and there on her own little projects. Beyond their limited interactions, she rarely ever even saw her at the base. No one could ever coax her to stay put for long, it seemed.

"Heh, I, er, put my own twist on stuff I find. Just need that jumpstart to spark me, you know?" Sombra replied, and her violet eyes flicked over to Moira, "Just like writing a fanfic, isn't that right, tia?". Moira scowled at first but followed it up with a somewhat bashful expression. She folded her arms and looked at the ground.

"What did you think of it?" Moira quietly muttered, and Symmetra's eyebrows would have shot right off her face were it not for the pressure of her headset.

"It's good... liked the ninja one better, though. This Gendo guy sounds like a piece of shit,".

"Gendo's misunderstood," Moira muttered and ended the conversation by fishing for her cigarettes in her hoodie pocket (though she only managed to locate her lighter). She swore she could hear Roadhog rumbling a laugh, but it could have just been him clearing his throat. Junkrat had the most puzzled look on his face, as though finally realizing that Moira was human after all.

"After we confirm safe port, we'll maintain radio silence until we reach the target, clear?" Lacroix quickly instructed as she slung her rifle across her back. Everyone gave a little nod of acknowledgment. Symmetra adjusted a pouch with extraction tools and clipped the containment vessel next to it. The trio slipped through the blue portal and popped through the other side into a dark tiled corridor. Looking up, she could see the ladder rungs and the metal door snapped shut above. Her headset illuminated her surroundings, only to confirm that it was empty. The coast was clear (at least, for a decent stretch). Amelie stepped in front of her and touched her own black headset. Three portions slid forward, closing over her face like a mask. Eight gleaming red lenses flashed to life. _Just like a spider..._

"Successful port," Amelie confirmed.

"Got ya'," Junkrat said, and the radio went dead. Sombra tacked at her handset and looked around.

"Got the all clear. No cameras until we get back up top," Sombra informed, and Lacroix continued ahead of them, outpacing them so as to eliminate any possible opposition. Symmetra and Sombra were quickly left to their own devices.

"Enjoying your little vacation here in Oasis?" Sombra joked, finally breaking the silence.

"Working vacation, and yes," Symmetra truthfully answered with a smirk. She continued to scan her surrounding, keeping herself focused so as to not overlook any useful details or exploits.

"Moira wants to make you a minister, doesn't she?". Symmetra stopped dead in her tracks, shocked at Sombra's pointed (and accurate) statement.

"How do you know that?!" Sym blundered, causing her companion to grin.

"Well, I wasn't one hundred percent sure... until now," she winked, "And I may have listened in on a little meeting Moira went to this morning. They talked about an upcoming opening in the engineering department, and for everyone to consider a nominee,". Her added confession at least took some of the edge off her unexpected comment, but Sym didn't approve of Sombra's listening-in. She knew she really didn't have much room to talk. She'd broken into offices and all sorts of buildings looking for wanted information, but having the tables turned on her didn't feel so pleasant.

"In the event that Doctor O'Deorain does actually nominate me, I will make my decision. For now, there is nothing to discuss. I'd ask you to keep this information quiet, but I doubt you'll comply," Sym replied, finally catching up with the woman who merely kept walking. Sombra didn't immediately respond, and that was most definitely on purpose. Symmetra suffered Sombra's silent footfalls while her own shoes quietly clicked away. They barely made an echo.

"I know a lot of people's secrets. Yours is pretty tame in comparison. Not much I can do with it, either. You like keeping your nose clean, don't you? Not like your boss,". Sombra's words sent a chill up her spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she murmured.

"Tell me, Symmetra... Which do you like better? Your day job, or being, well, Symmetra?". She knew Sombra was bating her. _Don't answer. It's what she wants._ Sombra had come to a stop and refused to budge until her curiosity was sated. Sym tried walking further, not caving, but the gap between them grew wider and wider, and it was maddening. _Moira's right. You ARE a brat..._

"I prefer my day job," she reluctantly replied. There. She'd said it, and why would it come as a shock to anyone? She'd trained to be an architech, not a corporate spy!

"Why're you working here then, I wonder? Your boss got some dirt on you that I don't know about?".

"Duty calls upon my services. I do what I must because I am the only one who can," she hastily explained. Sombra stopped stalling, and the pair kept along with their path, making the appropriate turns when necessary.

"You ever kill anyone before?". Why must you ask that?!

"I don't wish to discuss this subject," was the only answer she could come up with. _Please don't make me dwell on this now. Please._

"That's a guilty answer if I've ever heard one," her companion muttered.

"I don't wish to discuss this subject!" she sharply repeated. It was blessed relief when she didn't open her mouth with some sort of snarky comeback or succinct observation, and it was just as well. Amelie could be seen waiting at the end of the hall, looking upward at the ladder and trap door above. The steps leading down, however, had rusted away. The neglected pieces of metal sat collecting dust. Sombra looked up, trying to gauge the nature of their situation.

"You able to get up there, Amelie?"

"Widowmaker. When we are on a mission, do not use my name. Protocol," she reminded Sombra (who was busy rolling her eyes), "And yes I can, though you two may have difficulty,". Sym stepped forward and did a quick assessment of the broken rungs.

"It's nothing I can't handle," she assured and quickly whipped up replacement steps. Amelie looked unimpressed, though Sym knew that was how she always looked, so she took no offense. They ascended, with Sombra leading the way. She looked upwards at the circular hatch and gave a snort.

"Pitiful security on these. Almost don't need me," she muttered while holding her palm up.

"A sentiment which I share regularly," Lacroix stated, standing underneath Sombra. If it bothered the hacker, then she hid it amazingly well, as she merely laughed.

"Gotta' admit, that's a good one," Sombra chuckled. _Ah. A friendship based upon debasement_ (She never understood the appeal in such interactions). Glowing pink wires slid from Sombra's fingertips and attached themselves to different portions of the door's circuitry. A few clicks and pops later, the hidden door slid open with a hiss. Amelie leaned out from her grip on the upper ladder rungs.

"We are clear, yes?" she enquired.

"Yeah. Guard bots are floating around, but I can take care of them once they make their round again," she assured. They must have been close, because she flicked her hand over herself, and vanished in front of them. Symmetra could hear the slightest sound of her footfalls as she pulled herself over the lip and took off running. A couple minutes passed before her voice crackled to life with only a slight clip of static.

"Bots down. Safe to come up. Door's on the right,". They followed instructions, arriving at the containment room where the dark matter awaited.

Even with Moira leading her, Symmetra hadn't been allowed to view that particular lab earlier that day. In fact, she hadn't even been allowed into the building, and even the doctor had to be careful with how many visits she could make without someone calling her into question. The genetics department was several buildings over, and her presence never went unnoticed. Sym went out of her way to study the blueprints and layouts in advance, plotting escape routes (should their initial plan hit a snag). She tip-toed through the lecture hall and slipped through the doorway after Lacroix. The sight in front of her brought her to a halt.

"Amazing...," Sym whispered to herself without realizing. She couldn't help it. In the very center of the room hovered a black ball of, well, something she couldn't describe. It rippled and spiked in a rhythmic pattern as small scanners zipped around it to keep it in check. What little light there was in the room seemed to be swallowed by the mass. It hooked her eyes, drawing her attention inward, and for a moment she lost herself.

"We have reached the target. Preparing for extraction," Widowmaker announced in a hushed tone to whoever was listening on the headset. _Extraction...OH! Yes! Extraction!_ In the darkness of the room, a blush rose. Embarrassment was never something she suffered well, even if no one else had even witnessed her fixated trance. Amelie took aim with a grappling hook and zipped upward toward a better vantage point while Sombra reappeared towards the other side of the target. She also gaped at it, and rather shamelessly.

“Huh. Not... not quite what I expected. Pictures and videos... don’t do it justice,” she murmured. Sym swallowed and sucked in a breath to steady her nerves. She slid her hand to her hip, unlatched the clasp to her tool pouch and pulled out the specialized syringe. _Just like in practice. The tip will glow green when in the safe collection zone._ Sym clicked the device on, and a red light began to glow. It reminded her of a lit cigarette. At least it didn’t emit an odor. In fact, the closer she got, the more she realized that there were no ambient odors whatsoever. Her perfume? Undetectable. The lingering scents of cleaning supplies? Nonexistent. And sound! She couldn’t hear her own breaths, footfalls, or movements, let alone the hum of the scan bots that she vaguely remembered existed outside her person.

She stepped a little closer, and the syringe changed to orange. The light around her continued to dim, though she herself stood in contrast. Was her gauntlet actually glowing brighter? Her visor read that none of her settings had changed, so she told herself that she was imagining things. The light changed to yellow.

“Just a heads up. I’m getting a heat signature from one floor down. Looks like there’s a watchman still bumbling around. Shift change will be happening soon enough,” Sombra informed, but from where? Her companion’s voice sounded so distant. Had she hollered from the other side of the room? Symmetra couldn’t see anything anymore, but she couldn’t stop inching forward. _Slowly now... far too volatile a substance for carelessness._ The light changed green.

Sym held the syringe towards the inky mass in front of her, but, was she even facing the right direction? By that point, everything around her had grown dark. _Get the sample, and then walk backward._ If she squinted, she could make out the little tendrils breaking free; the antithesis of the wisps of light that would emanate from her gauntlet (the wisps only she could see). She pulled the plunger back, catching a spike with the nozzle, and the vial began to fill. At least, she thought it did. She could only tell by the faint blue outlining that her headset provided.

“Sym? You okay?”. It was Sombra again. Why was she even talking to her?

“I... Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” she stammered, looking in every direction. The visor outlined Sombra’s silhouette, and she took it at its word.

“You were talking to yourself when you got closer to the target,” Sombra informed. Sym shook her head. Was Sombra speaking over the headset? How could she hear her and nothing else?

“Let me get the sample...” she heard herself say. The vial was nearly full of the sticky tar-like substance. _Or is it wet sand?_ An overwhelming urge to reach into it coursed through her. It was so compelling. W _hat hurt would it cause to touch it?_ But logic fought back. _No!_ She wouldn’t do something so reckless! She wouldn’t! The dark matter, instead, reached out towards her! A midnight tendril lashed out, and attached to the lights on the back of her left hand! Alarm gripper her. Panic sunk into her stomach.

It didn’t hurt in the way she’d expected. The bit attached to her seemed to feed upon the light she emitted, sucking it away from her. Her fingers started to pixelate and fade as bits of herself left her own body. She screamed, or she thought she did. Her mouth was open as her voice was sucked out of her. _GODS! WHAT IS HAPPENING?!_

And then she was no longer blind. Her surroundings made sense again, though that didn’t mean the chaos had abated. Sombra had her arms around her shoulders, pulling her backward. The room grew brighter. Her pixels returned to her, once again whole. The last of the dark matter pulled away, snapping back into the orb.

“Sym! You alr- FUCK!” Sombra screamed. Suddenly the pink wires shot from her fingertips unbidden, sinking deep into the twilight gloom. It began to pull her inwards, and though the room itself was poorly lit, she could still see Sombra’s violet eyes distort. Her pupils contracted to pinpricks, and she opened her mouth to shriek. Having collected herself, she sprang into action to return Sombra’s favor. She grabbed her shoulders and attempted to pull her away from it.

Sombra was a petite woman, and so it should have been a fairly easy task, but not in that instance. Suddenly the hacker was a boulder; immovable, and the wires unbreakable. _Why wont it...? LIGHT!_ She didn’t know how or why she reached the epiphany, but it didn’t matter. She held her hand up high and increased the shine from her palm. The dark matter didn’t release its hold on Sombra without a fight. It pulled her in a few more inches, and her companion was able to vocalize her own screams. They echoed through the empty lab.

Symmetra made every light on her person glow. She turned herself into a blue supernova, and the dark matter took notice of her once more. It released its grip on the hacker, and she fell backward. Sym caught her and helped her limp away from it all, but not before the shadowy mass shot back out towards her; a lashing whip seeking the source of illumination. She lost her grip on Sombra’s shoulders, and the pair collapsed in a heap on the cold tiled floor. Without time to think, she simply reacted by creating a shield of hardlight to stand between them and the oncoming gloom. The tentacle-like growth attached to the shield and pulled it inward, slowly engulfing the construct. It crumpled under the pressure. _H-how?! How much pressure can it exude if it’s capable of destroying solidified light?!_

“The sample!”. It was Widowmaker. Symmetra wasn’t sure where she was even hiding, but her voice definitely came from the headset. Sym’s eyes darted around, searching for the syringe. She’d dropped it somewhere along the way, and it had rolled under a computer desk. She stepped over the coughing and gasping Sombra to retrieve it, and even though she stood several meters away from the mass, she could feel a gravitational pull from it, trying to suck the extracted matter back in. She quickly transferred the vial into the containment vessel, bringing an end to the dark matter’s hold. With the sample safely tucked away, she bent back down to help her partner sit back upright.

“Are you alright?” she rushed.

“Not... the best...” Sombra wheezed, “But might be able to walk with some help,”. Her wires hung loosely from her fingertips, incapable of retracting.

“The guard heard you. He’s nearly at the door!” Amalie sharply warned. Symmetra hissed an obscenity. If they didn’t wish to be seen, then they needed to get out of there fast! She looped her arm around Sombra and helped her to her feet. It was a struggle. The hacker couldn’t stand on her own and leaned heavily against her. The pair hobbled back towards the emergency exit.

“HEY!” A man’s voice shouted. It was the watchman! He’d made it to their floor and he shouted some more. Her headset translated his words into variations of “STOP!”, “DON’T MOVE!”, and “WHO ARE YOU?!”. Sym tried letting go of Sombra, who merely lost what little balance she had, and nearly knocked her over. The man was upon them. She could see his face in the dark; his dark hair sticking out from his cap, his wide angry eyes, his bared teeth shining from under his thick black mustache. Symmetra groped for her projector, but a pop and hiss put an end to everything.

Widowmaker’s shot was clean. It hit him in the forehead; right underneath the brim of his hat. He fell at Sym’s feet, face down, and she could see the exit point of the bullet. She choked back a gasp of her own, horrified at what she just witnessed. Shaken, she looked around to spot the sniper, who’d made the shot while hanging upside down from her grappling line. Her actions gave new meaning to her moniker and spider tattoo. Lacroix dropped from her line, and briskly walked up to them, ignoring the guard’s body altogether. Sym stared wide-eyed at the sniper and the lack of remorse on her face.

“Can you stand on your own?” she asked Sombra, who was struggling just to get back up to her knees. She shook her head no. Widowmaker gave them both a flat frown, as though only slightly disappointed.

“Come along then,” she instructed, and between the two able-bodied women, they helped the third up into a standing position.

“We’ve hit a snag. We’ll need help in clean-up duties,” Lacroix said over her headset.

“Not surprised. And the dark matter?” Moira responded, sounding annoyed, rather than alarmed.

“Successful extraction. Sombra will need some medical attention,” Symmetra cut in, hoping there was something that could even be done. What effect did the dark matter have on Sombra? And what about herself? She felt weakened and confused. Would there be permanent damage from the physical contact? Moira replied with a sound of acknowledgment, and that ended the conversation. With some difficulty, they made it down the ladder and tunnel, and back through the waiting teleporter.

“Bring her to the van,” Moira instructed. She had a bag open and waiting for their arrival. After lowering Sombra down, Sym stood back up and finally noticed her heart jackhammering in her chest. She blinked a couple times and tried to regulate her breaths. _Too much._ It had all been too much, and the adrenaline had run its course, leaving her slightly trembling. She tried hiding it by hugging her arms across her body, adopting what she hoped looked like a calm stance.

“You,” Amelie said, looking at Roadhog, “Come with me. I require your assistance,”. Not being in a place to refuse her, Roadhog gave her a silent nod and followed her back towards the teleporter. They passed through and vanished from sight. No one bothered asking why Lacroix brought him back with her. After all, who else would she choose to carry a dead body?

 

**.         .         .         .         .**

 

His heart ached long after the words left her lips. “Know your place” she’d told him. Was that really how she saw him? What a slap in the face that had been! No. Not face. It was his pride, and it hurt in a way he’d never experienced before. Hog and Som could make fun of him to his face all day, and he could always laugh it off. Moira’s sneers (though unpleasant) at least made some sense to him. She just didn't like him, and she came by it honestly. But Sym? He’d convinced himself that they were genuinely friends; that she’d learned to see him as an equal.

“What now?” Hog rumbled, having finally returned from the east wing of the second floor. Junkrat buried his face behind his copy of the blueprints; its corners curling inward towards his thumbs.

“Think it’s time t’wrap this up. Swing by th’target,” he muttered and rolled the paper back up. He stuffed it back into a protective tube, which he then shoved into an obnoxiously yellow duffle bag.

“What’s eatin’ ya?” Hog asked. Junkrat didn’t want to get into it. His bodyguard may have come off as a quiet man to the rest of the world, but he always had plenty to say when it came to shit he didn’t want to discuss. He’d rather not have insult added to injury, thank you very much!

“Nothin’. Just wanna’ get home,” he lied.

“Bullshit. You always wanted t’come here. Made me ride that stupid gondola-,”.

“You said you LIKED it!” Junkrat quickly countered.

“...was pretty nice... but tha’s b’side the point. You were smilin’ all day ‘til we started th’job. What happened?”. One of his friend’s very special talents was his patience, which was normally a wonderful skill to have (as he had none). But patience could be utilized as a weapon against himself, too. All Roadhog had to do was watch Junkrat and silently wait. He always cracked. This time, he made it a full five minutes before he caved to Roadhog’s silent gaze.

“She told me to ‘know my place’. Can ya believe that? All this time we’ve been friends, and it’s like that. Unbelievable!” he finally replied. The doors to the lift slid open, letting them out on the first floor. They'd started their project on the fifth level, and worked their way down, building up a convincing professional pattern for the sake of the security cameras watching them.

“You’re right. It’s unbelievable,” said Roadhog, “I mean, not that she didn’t say it, but I don’t think she meant it th’way you think she did,”. Junkrat huffed, pulling the supply cart behind him; its squeaky wheel punctuating the quiet void between them.

“She’s just a Suit. Don’t know why I thought otherwise,” he said with a grimace.

“You’re bein’ a git. Sayin’ y’been a good friend but kept hidin’ from ‘er ‘cause you can’t handle a stupid crush. Then get all pissy when maybe she don’t like ya no more? Y’don’t get t’call ‘er a Suit. That’s an excuse,”. Junkrat just stared at his friend; the way his face hid behind a mask, the way the shirt of his uniform popped up, exposing his tattooed belly, the quiet but noticeable inhales and exhales.

“Ain’t payin’ ya fer life advice, so shut it,” he ordered with a sneer, and Roadhog shrugged. Either he’d grown weary of conversation, or he’d said all he cared to say.

“We’re here,” Roadhog said, ending the conversation by pointing at the general vicinity of the emergency escape tunnel. Junkrat whipped his blueprints out of their tube again, and pointed at the spot on the diagram, miming annoyance (which wasn’t difficult, considering he had proper motivation). The charade was supposed to throw off security. They were just coworkers going over the plans, reaching some disagreement; typical everyday stuff that most employed people experienced. Who didn’t want to throttle the person sitting next to them day in and day out? Well, not Junkrat, anyway.

At some point in the fake fight, Roadhog swung his fist up, knocking the security camera up towards the ceiling. Thus began the next part of their mission. Junkrat dropped the little lock tool Sombra had given them. The device attached itself, and a moment later, the pop of the locks could be heard. The tile of the floor split and the door slid to the side. Junkrat moved quickly. He clambered down the ladder rungs; no easy feat for a man with a peg leg. Roadhog reached into a bomb crate to retrieve the teleporter base. Secured with a line, he dangled the creation down towards Junkrat’s waiting arms. He carefully grabbed it and sat it on the floor. All he had to do was press the button to activate it. The blue portal wouldn’t open until another base synced with it. With it placed and powered up, he quickly scaled back up and closed the door behind him. The Junkers returned to their pantomiming. Roadhog reached up and adjusted the camera once more. Junkrat finished up with returning his blueprints to their container, wired a small mine, and moved onwards towards the next point.

He wanted to stay mad at Hog and remained convinced he was wrong for a little while longer, so he did. _What’s that knob know? Nothin’, tha’s what!_ Sym was a Suit and that was that! Roadhog wasn’t some sort of therapist or confidante. He was just some nosy tosser that he paid to keep him safe. His stubborn mindset sustained him until she’d arrived to prepare herself. She'd changed into her uniform again; the same one she’d worn the day she’d saved his ass. The same one she’d worn when she’d taught him that there was more to her than met the eye.

And she’d apologized, too. Damn her! Between her and Roadhog, the words had been dragged right out of him. He hated admitting he was wrong, and so he fought it some more. He wasn’t wrong! She was simply lying to placate him. That was a Suit technique. It just had to be! Amelie, Sombra, and Moira showed up before he could come back with some cold retort, and that only fired him up even more. He knew why the doctor decided to tag along, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the mission. How was Sym so utterly oblivious to it all?! The infiltration team teleported away, leaving just him, Roadhog, and the doctor to their own devices. Moira wordlessly went back to her car for cigarettes, and Roadhog plodded up to him. _He better not say a fucking word..._

“Hey,”. Junkrat knew he was in for another lecture. He casually leaned back against the side of the van.

“Hey,” he greeted back and waited for the silence. He’d crack again. He always did, but he vowed that he’d always put up a fight at the very least. A minute ticked by. Then another.

“She apologized. Said she didn’t mean it like that,” he said after the third minute.

“Heard that,” Roadhog grunted, and leaned against the van as well. The vehicle groaned and tipped slightly in response.

“It’s bullshit, though,” he added. Roadhog made a frustrated sound.

“Knock it off. Stop sulkin’ an’ lyin’. Still actin’ like a little shit,”. Moira’s heels thumped against the concrete, giving him an opportunity to get off the subject. _Oh great! It’s YOU!_ Could his day get any worse?! He hoped she hadn’t heard him.

“Evening,” she greeted with a nod. They nodded back out of basic courtesy. She popped the cigarette in her mouth and pulled out a lighter.

“Might wanna’ put that light out,” Junkrat warned, thumbing to the dangerous cargo behind him. Moira smirked.

“Professional after all,” she mused, and clicked her lighter shut. After stuffing her lighter back in her pocket, she plucked her cigarette from her lips and tucked it back in her case.

“First time fer everything,” he shrugged, and Moira let out a chuckle that somehow sounded sinister.

“You nearly blew our cover today,” she said, cutting to the quick of it. Junkrat cringed internally. Why the conversation? He didn’t need reminding of it.

“I won’t be reporting you though,” she continued. Junkrat’s eyebrows popped up in surprise.

“Oh! Uh... thanks!” he blundered. She’d forgiven him? That was certainly unexpected.

“Only because she ask me not to,”. _Wot?!_ Sym had asked her to remain silent? She wanted him to keep his job? It wasn’t even something he’d realized he could have lost, and yet she’d taken the steps to try and redeem him. His dam of stubbornness broke. Roadhog was right. He was being a git. Damn him, too!

“Oh...,” he remarked, incapable of coming up with something else to say.

“I can pass along your thanks to her tomorrow at dinner if you’d like,”. His eyebrows knit as he tried to decipher Moira’s cryptic offer.

“What’s that?” he asked for clarification.

“I’m taking her out tomorrow night. I’ll tell her you said thanks,” she explained, “Oh right! That’s the reason I came over here! You’re her friend, correct? Do you have any good suggestions for dinner plans? I have some ideas, but I’d prefer a place I know she’ll enjoy,”. He hated that he had to respond. If he didn’t he’d look like some weak and jealous asshole, giving Moira even more material to work with.

“...think anywhere with a nice view’d do,” he answered, keeping his observation vague. She smirked and turned back around, rubbing his nose in the fact that she had a date with Sym, and she knew that it would eat him alive to know it.

“Is the car a safe distance for me to have a smoke?” she asked, gazing at her vehicle.

“Nah. Go another couple meters further,” Junkrat lied. _Out inta’ th’street, where a car can smack inta’ ya..._ A devious image started to form in his head. Moira thanked him and walked away towards the designated smoking area. Even from that distance, he could still see the satisfied look on her face. He sneered and walked around to the other side of the van with Roadhog right behind him. He ground his teeth together.

“...you want a hug, mate?” Roadhog quietly rumbled. Junkrat folded his arms and stewed.

“...maybe later...,”.

The team inside didn’t have a long mission planned; get in, get the sample, get out. After dicking around for a little while, the calm was interrupted by Lacroix’s voice over the headset. They’d hit a snag, in that something had happened to Sombra that required medical attention, and a security guard had discovered them. They popped through the teleporter with Sym and Amelie helping a weakened Sombra hobble along. Moira motioned to bring her to the back of the van, where she fished through her bag for some tools. Unfazed, Amelie came up to Roadhog and ordered him to go back with her to the scene of the scuffle. It wasn’t the first time for him to take on clean-up duty.

“What happened?” Moira asked the two women. Too incapacitated to properly recall, Sombra allowed Sym to explain.

“The dark matter... It grabbed hold of us. I was able to pull back, but it got ahold of her. It is hard to describe what happened from there. It was very disorienting,”. _Holy shit!_ Moira frowned and pulled out a small scanning wand, which she connected to a tablet.

“You made physical contact with it?” she asked with a slight sense of shock.

“Not purposefully. Both of us remained in the safe zone, but it just sort of... lashed out. It seemed more interested in our bionic parts. And light! That’s what it wanted,” Sym said, trying her best to describe it.

“I’ll need to make note of this... You managed to secure the sample, right?”. Junkrat witnessed Sym bite the inside of her cheek and looked down at her belt. She grabbed the small container, and carefully handed it over. Moira popped the white metal box open and gazed at the filled vial. She was enchanted by the contents inside.

“Fascinating,” she whispered, and closed the box back up,

“Would you secure it in my bag, please? It’s in the trunk,”. Sym followed her instructions, stepping away from the doctor as she began to scan Sombra.

“The scanner isn’t detecting anything of note... apart from some possible nausea.

“Think my stomach’s gonna... hard-reset...” Sombra mumbled on cue.

“What does that mean?” Moira began to ask, and Sombra gladly demonstrated by vomiting at the doctor’s feet.

“S-sorry,” Sombra apologized, and the doctor ran her palm over her face.

“Ah. A flashback to my sorority days... Just... Hang on. I’ll get you something for that,”. Junkrat cackled internally at Moira's discomfort and turned around. Som was going to be okay, but he had another friend he wished to check in on. Sym stood at the popped trunk of Moira’s car.

“Um... hey,” he greeted, giving her a little wiggle of his fingers. Sym locked the box and zipped up the bag in front of her.

“Hello,” she said, though didn’t look at him.

“You alright?” he tried, after hearing the exhaustion in her voice.

“I think I’ll be alright. I’m just a little shaken,” she admitted. He tried to think of what he’d do when life threw him for a loop. He began to pat around his belt until he located his flask. He unclasped it from its strap and held it out to her. She shook her head no.

“I don’t think alcohol-,”.

“It’s tea,” he explained. Sym stared at it.

“Tea?” she asked, as though her figures didn’t add up.

“Yeah! Not fresh, but it’s something,” he offered. Sym hesitantly took the flask from him and unscrewed the cap. After a couple sniffs for verification, she took a sip. She pulled a face and handed it back.

“Thank you, but I don’t think I should be having any more of this right now. In retrospect, I'd rather not risk following in Sombra's footsteps,”. He snapped it back in place at his hip.

“Listen... about earlier,” he started and fumbled for words.

“You’re still upset?” she asked.

“What?! Oh! Nononono! Was just, ah... Well, you apologized, so thanks, but I think I need ta apologize too. Been kinda’, I dunno, hidey lately,”.

“I would say aloof,”.

“A goof? Yeah, I’m that too,” he said, not hearing things correctly, and it caused Symmetra to break out in a bemused smile.

“Just got stupid stuff goin’ on. Didn’t mean t’be a shitty mate, roight?” he hastily fibbed. He told himself it wasn’t entirely a lie. The stupid stuff he’d referred to were his own thoughts and emotions, and he was finally starting to figure them out.

“Shall we agree to accept each other’s apologies, then?” she asked, holding out her hand. Junkrat thought about it for only a millisecond before carefully grasping hers in his own and gave her a couple quick pumps.

“Good... Ah! Excuse me. It appears that I am being summoned,” she said as she looked over her shoulder back towards the van. Moira was flagging her over, and she stepped aside to have her own mini-physical performed.

He felt something that border-lined relief. He’d gotten through the worst of his dread. They’d both apologized, and accepted said apologies. She wasn’t injured, and she and Sombra, though rattled, were going to be okay. The mission had gone with only a slight hitch. He was ready to pack it in for the night, and Hog popped back through the teleporter not a moment too soon.

“Everything taken care of?” the doctor asked. An unperturbed Widowmaker nodded and reported that Roadhog had hidden the guard’s body underneath the soon-to-be-destroyed building. The only evidence left was the blood on his work shirt, which he pulled over his head, and handed to Junkrat to be destroyed. He took it and walked a safe distance away before setting fire to the fabric. The polyester burned up in under a minute, leaving tattered ash and scraps that blew away in the breeze. The night was over. It was time to go home.

“You’re fine, too,” Moira said after studying the scanner’s readings, “Lucky for me,”. She helped Sym out of the cab and handed her the photon projector so she could dismantle the base.

“In what way?” Symmetra wondered, erasing the solid base with ease.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you missing our dinner tomorrow night, would I?” she grinned. Junkrat began to grind his teeth again while Symmetra smiled. She packed her photon projector away, grabbed her bag with her change of clothes, and the pair made it all the way to the car (where Moira opened the door for her).

“I’m looking forward to it,” she said, and Moira closed the door for her. After securing the other two passengers, the car revved to life and sped away, leaving the Junkers alone with the demolition van.

“Mate?” Junkrat asked, not turning his head back to look at his friend.

“Yeah?”.

“Think I could have that hug now?”.

“Sure,”.


	11. Ch 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sym watches the old anthropology wing implode while the previous night weighs heavily on her mind. Sanjay jabs and prods, making her feel worse. Moira is given some unpleasant news, and has unexpected Ministry matters to deal with. Later, Sombra calls Sym for some venting and questions.

"Only ten minutes to go," Moira quietly muttered to herself. Symmetra stood at her side, gazing out of the tenth-floor window of the Ministry tower.

"Mimosa?" a passing waiter-bot asked while holding a tray of glasses out for them to grab from. They both helped themselves, and the floating torso hovered away to help other guests. Sym took a sip from her glass, and the drink bubbled the entire way down her throat. _I should not be drinking this on an empty stomach._

"Smoked salmon toast points?" offered another bot, and she helped herself to that, too. Minister Iris had used the upcoming demolition of her old building to facilitate an official groundbreaking ceremony for the new one on the way (not to mention a lavish viewing party). As Vishkar's representative, Symmetra had no choice but to attend, and the food and drink did little to ease her knotted stomach.

The night before had been too much. She'd stayed awake most of the night, and what little rest she had was interrupted by fitful nightmares. The dark matter had terrified her to the point that she didn't even want to pass within proximity of the building itself. And then there was the watchman's face that still haunted her. _He will be reborn. Fate will treat him well, I hope._ Her own thoughts brought little comfort. _He didn't deserve to die like that._

"Ah! And there are your friends," Moira nearly whispered, nodding to the grounds below, where she could spy the unmistakable forms of the Junkers (still dressed in their demolition uniforms) prepping for the countdown. Sym busied herself by nibbling on her toast point. She was finding any excuse she could to not speak. She didn't know how she was going to word her request to the geneticist. She wanted to postpone their dinner plans, and while that wouldn't normally be a difficult request to make, she didn't know if she had it in her. A work-related party was one thing, but a quiet meal one-on-one was something of a different matter. She wasn’t doing it entirely for her own sake, either. She had the Junkers’ (or, more specifically, Junkrat’s) jobs on the line. Would Moira feel snubbed and report him after all?

"Vaswani! Minister O'Deorain!". Of all the voices to hear at the party, Sanjay's was the least expected. It was mostly because she had no idea he was going to attend. He hadn't sent her a text message or called, and by the look on Moira's face, it was clear that she hadn't expected him either.

"Korpal! What a surprise!" Moira greeted and shook his outstretched hand. Sym shifted her glass from one hand to the other and followed suit. Sanjay returned with a businessman’s smile; phony, but not so forced as to warrant concern.

“Ah, a surprise to me, as well. A few of your colleagues in the Ministry invited me last minute. I can never say no to a groundbreaking party,” Sanjay explained.

“Are you staying in Oasis long?” Symmetra wondered. She’d been away from the head office for so long that she found she actually missed some of the small talk and goings-on there.

“Only a week, though two of those days will be for sightseeing,” he casually replied.

“Not trying to steal ideas from the other architech firm, are you, Korpal?” Moira chided. _The balls on you!_ Moira had most likely meant it as good-natured ribbing, but a dig like that sunk into Korpal. He was good at hiding it. Great at it, actually. Sym saw his jaw twitch before he forced his smile to grow even broader.

“Rest assured Vishkar will never need to resort to that. Not when we have talent like Vaswani,” he retorted.

“Lucky for me she’s decided to stay with us, then, where I can assess her talent daily,” Moira responded, and swept her eyes over the length of her. A wave of heat washed over Sym, and it nestled into the pit of her stomach. With it returned that conflicted feeling she’d had the other day.

“Moira! A word?” the requester interrupted. Despite being in full regalia, Iris still looked somewhat hunched and annoyed. Symmetra blamed it on her outdated tortoiseshell glasses. An antique like that clashed with the more-than-modern robes and headpieces she donned.

“I’m in the middle of some-,”.

“This is a Ministry matter,” Iris clipped. Moira’s smile flopped to a frown, and she regretfully parted with a quick “would you please excuse me?”. The Vishkar representatives politely nodded back as she walked away.

“Well!” Sanjay prodded with raised eyebrows and a smile that indicated that he saw something that she didn’t.

“Well, what?” she asked, giving him a prod. Sanjay stuck his hand into the pocket of his ivory linen suit; a rather casual ensemble for a work-related event.

“I see you and O’Deorain have more than just ‘hit it off’, so to speak,” he said with a scoff (a scoff that read stating-the-obvious). He grabbed a mimosa for himself as the waiter bot passed back around.

“Yes. We are friends,”. Sanjay snorted a bit and took a sip of his drink while his eyes darted to the side in an exaggerated manner.

“I’m a professional, sir. You needn’t worry,” she assured, suddenly feeling anything but. Dressed in her Vishkar uniform, she may have looked the part, but the other day in her hotel bed reminded herself otherwise. 

“Please, Vaswani. I don’t care what you two do together... And frankly, if it facilitates a _merger_ between Vishkar and the Ministry, all the better for it,” he chuckled. Sanjay was in rare form. Symmetra quietly hissed a breath. _Is that what people think? Is it that obvious to see?_ She waited until Sanjay took a sip, deliberately preventing him from interrupting her.

“She has made mention of nominating me as Minister of Engineering,” she started and waited for his eyebrows to instinctively rise, “But it would mean me leaving Vishkar. I can not have corporate affiliations,”. He swallowed, and returned to smiling, though pompously. He straightened his diagonally striped tie, and she internally frowned at the unimpressive knot. _A new mistress, no doubt. One who isn’t used to upper-class clientele._ Sanjay may have been brilliant, but even he had imperfections, and one of his was his less-than-faithful view on marriage.

“I seriously wouldn’t worry about it. Everyone in that circle has their fingers in various pots,” he said while nodding towards Moira, Iris, and a man whose name she couldn’t recall. Moira looked somewhere between annoyed and furious, and she rolled her eyes so far back into her head that Symmetra could have sworn she’d fall right over! She came charging back over at a brisk pace to get away from Iris as quickly as she could. As soon as she approached, she flashed her such a sad face.

“It pains me to say this, but we’ll have to cancel our plans for the evening,” she said. Sym stifled the urge to sigh with relief. Fate was kind enough to step in on her behalf.

“Oh! Well, I certainly understand. Duty calls,” she quickly replied. _There! Now, if only Sanjay weren’t here to witness this._

“We’ll reschedule, of course?” Moira asked, and her superior hid his satisfied smirk behind his glass. Symmetra’s cheeks grew hot.

“Of course,”. Her uniform had never felt so tight and stifling. The whole room felt uncomfortable; from the lack of seats to the lack of even breathing space. The whole atmosphere sucked at her, much like the dark matter.

“Detonation in one minute!” an announcer from somewhere called, and all the conversations in the room came to a halt. The window space grew crowded, and she edged her way to the less-populated area of the room. She didn’t need to see it happen in full detail. She was no stranger to demolitions.

She glanced down at the ground below, once again locating the Junkers. Junkrat was staring intently at the countdown clock on his detonator. He was practically squirming in anticipation. _At least one of us is in a good mood._ She assumed Hog was in one as well. It was always a fifty-fifty wager with him.

The crowd counted down the last ten seconds. She found it to be a useless ritual and kept her mouth shut. The countdown came to zero just as Junkrat hit the button with a triumphant smile. There was the predictable concussion that caused the glass to nearly shake. Plumes of dust rose and blew outward as the old brick building caved within itself, quickly reducing to a pile of rubble. Somewhere underneath the pile rested the crushed remains of her teleporter and the body of the watchman. A chill ran up her spine, and she excused herself to the restroom. She passed by it all together, and left the tower entirely. A quick message to Sanjay and Moira covered her tracks. She told them she was starting to feel ill, and it was most likely due to poor sleep. It was a feeble excuse, but she suddenly couldn’t bring herself to be there a second longer.

 

**.          .          .          .          .**

 

Moira had noticed her from the second she’d entered the tower, finally giving her an excuse to part from the rest of her “peers” and their useless banter. Vaswani had arrived, this time in an official Vishkar uniform. Every step was elegant and graceful. From day one, she was pleased to discover she was every bit the person she’d dreamed of; just like in her magazine article. And it had been no easy feat to bring her to THIS exact moment!

What was it about that article that had sunk so deeply into Moira’s psyche? There was Vaswani’s face, of course. Her eyes had hooked her in. What sort of amazing creature had molten gold eyes? Satya Vaswani did, and she was employed by none other than the Vishkar corporation. How fortuitous it had been.

She’d started her pursuit of the architech slowly. She didn’t want to scare her off. Moira had a nasty habit of doing that sort of thing. Perhaps that’s why everyone had described her as being “intense”. She slowly built a closer acquaintanceship with Korpal. She didn’t particularly like the man. His focus had always been numbers and production; not innovation and discovery. Still, getting to Satya meant going through him, and she suffered his annoyances as minimally as possible.

The botched missions in Numbani and at Volskaya proved to be somewhat of a blessing for Moira. It gave her an excuse to suggest some new talent to add to their ranks. It meant the hiring of those... degenerates, but then came the words she’d hoped to hear from the Vishkar representative. Why not Satya Vaswani? It came as a shock when Sanjay had explained the sort of side work she did for the company, and it only intrigued Moira further. A brilliant builder by day, and mysterious spy by night; was there anything this woman couldn’t do?

Everything that happened from then on out had been a series of calculated risks that always worked in her favor. She continued to work slow so as to properly warm herself up to her, and that had worked, too! It had to have, because there Satya was, looking for her, and later that evening they’d actually go out on a date!

God, it felt so good! She hadn’t been on a proper date in, well, at least a couple years! She internally grimaced at that realization. She couldn’t even remember the last woman’s name. She had green hair, and that was about all she could recall beyond the evening being a flop.

And so they waited for the “demolition crew” to do their job. The sooner the building came down, the sooner they could leave and get ready. Vaswani would change, of course; hopefully into something a little more nightlife-appropriate. She’d be gorgeous and perfect, and Moira would turn up her own charms, and maybe if she was lucky Vaswani would invite her into her hotel room and... _I’m getting ahead of myself. She’s a lady of class. She wouldn’t give in to passion so quickly..._

Iris brought reality crashing back down the moment she’d interrupted their conversation with Korpal. She wanted to throttle the old bat. What could possibly be so important that it became Ministry business? Surely it couldn’t be... Oh! Oh, but it was! Moira realized it just as Iris approached Minister Sanchez as well.

“There’s been an... issue concerning an asset in the astrophysics department,” she quietly informed. Sanchez’s eyes popped open in shock, and Moira followed his lead so as not to come off as suspicious.

“What sort of issue?” she asked, volunteering a question to throw them off.

“The nightly watchman for that block? Well, this morning he never returned for the shift change. And there’s more. The readings on the asset show its mass has shrunk without reason or warning!” Iris hissed. Again, she forced a small gasp.

“What does this mean?!” Sanchez asked. Iris glanced at the two of them with an almost withering seriousness. Moira was never a woman to suffer guilt, but the pangs of it started to poke at her. It wasn’t from Talon’s involvement, but rather the negative effects poor Satya had suffered from the stolen sample ...and Sombra too, of course. A shame, but it would all be worth it in the end after she made undoubted breakthroughs in her research.

“It means something has happened, and we need to hold an emergency council meeting. I’ve already discussed it with the rest. Tonight. Seven o’clock,” she ordered. Moira slowly blinked as the timing set in.

“Did you say seven?” she asked for clarification. Iris nodded. _NO! NO NO NO! All this time! All this waiting!_

“I’m afraid I will not be able to attend. I have a prior obligation,” she tried. Oh, it was a bad move! Reckless! She was making herself look suspicious, and that was the last thing she should be doing. Not when it came to this. Not with the dark matter now finally in her grasp! Iris shifted to the side and glanced towards Vaswani. She gave a pompous smirk that stung and infuriated the geneticist.

“With all due respect, MINISTER O’Deorain, your love life will have to take a back seat tonight. This is not something we can put off,” Iris replied, and Sanchez gave his own snort and smirk behind his cup of tea. How badly she wished to smack the cup out of his hand, and the looks off both their faces too! But she was also thankful that that’s all they thought of her statement. No, surely there was nothing suspicious about Moira’s want to skip the meeting. _I’m not a suspect; just a wanting and desperate woman who’s practically growing cobwebs under her belt..._

“Seven it is, then,” she grit, slugged back the last of her drink, and placed the empty glass onto another passing tray. She trudged back over towards Vaswani to deliver the terrible news. Their date would have to be postponed. _What a tragedy. The gardens are in peak bloom, too..._

The countdown began. If nothing else, she’d get to see Iris’s old department crumble. It was a small comfort. It neatly collapsed with a powerful concussion. Perhaps the Junkers weren’t as stupid as they appeared. At the very least, they could be counted on to destroy something properly. What Vaswani saw in them was beyond her. Who could make friends with those creeps? And how was she so oblivious to the fact that that scrawny dolt was always watching her like some sex-crazed animal? Her obliviousness was her only flaw, and she told herself that in some way, it was charming.

Shortly after the dust settled, Satya excused herself to go to the restroom, and a few minutes later, both she and her superior had received the same message. She wasn’t feeling well and needed to rest. _Poor thing. So upset about my cancellation._ Another small comfort. At least Vaswani was thinking about her.

It was enough to sustain her through the tedium of the day. She stood through the rest of the party, watching the rest of the ministers put on phony smiles, and listened to Korpal talk about... something. She couldn't honestly recall what their conversation was even about. She was merely watching his mouth move, and she just smiled when he smiled. _It's all bullshit. Why am I even here?_ She should have just left when Satya did.

The numbers of attendees thinned out. The Junkers had long since packed up and left; no doubt regrouping with Sombra to head back to Brazil. The clean-up would be left to the professionals in Oasis, and if Junkrat had done things correctly, the watchman's body would remain hidden under rubble, and covered over with cement for the new foundation sometime within the next couple of months. She was jealous of Sombra, Amelie, and the other two. If she couldn't have her date, then she'd at least like to get back to her sample of dark matter just a little sooner. She could be a patient woman when she wanted to be, but she was at the tail-end of it all and the wait had grown aggravating. She left the moment Korpal finally detracted his lips from her ass. _He's a fucking anglerfish, swear to God!_

Her afternoon dragged, of course. She had nothing on her schedule, and she indulged in some sulking. What a waste the day had been and would continue to be. She regretted more than anything that she couldn't just turn around and catch a flight back home! She drew a hot bath and grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass to accompany her in her soak. She sipped away while growling both figuratively and audibly.

Dinner would be provided at the emergency meeting, so she didn't bother digging through her empty cupboards or fingering through her stack of delivery menus. The ministers loved to dine and socialize, (even when the subject matter at hand was of grave importance). She arrived again at the tower in clothes that were far more casual than what she'd worn earlier in the day. If she couldn't do as she pleased, then she'd at least be comfortable. She took the central lift down, scanning her thumbprint so the car would go into the secret sub-basement where they held their "off-the-record" sort of meetings.

"The roast boar in the cranberry reduction sauce, please. And the sautéed broccolini," she ordered while handing the menu back to the faceless floating bot. Metal clamps accepted the laminated sheets and moved on to Minister Alexopoulos. She tugged the collar of her tee into place. Perhaps she'd dressed a little too informal.

With the first round of drinks and appetizers on the conference table, the meeting began. Between the hours of one o'clock and eight o'clock, something had happened to the watchman and the dark matter. He'd simply vanished, and readings indicated that the dark matter had shrunk. It was the same information that had been relayed in the morning. She had to play her cards carefully, and think her questions and answers carefully.

"Security bots picked up nothing?" Sanchez asked. Moira scowled as she bit down on a piece of buttered bread, hiding her frustration. _What a stupid question._

"No. Initial investigations show that we have nothing. The bots show no evidence of tampering. The scanners picked up no signature reading variations until after the shift change this morning. The guard's body cam turned off sometime around two in the morning, and by all accounts, it wasn't by his doing. According to the head of security, we'd have seen his hand moving to turn it off," Iris explained. _Sombra certainly hid their tracks well..._

"Safe to say a sample was stolen," Minister Mubiru muttered, and several heads nodded their agreement.

"Yes, but by WHO? And WHY?" Iris asked, emphasizing the words more than was necessary.

“It wouldn’t be the first time some went missing. Possibly Lucheng? They stole their initial sample before. They must have run out and grown desperate to try us again,” Sanchez offered. Moira sipped her water and listened a little more intently. Yes, it was Lucheng’s initial security breach two years back that had intrigued her and set the beginnings of her plan in motion. It had been such an embarrassment for the labs of Oasis, and they were forced to remain hush-hush so as not to worry funding sources and financial backers.

“Lucheng breached us with five well-placed plants practically in broad daylight! Whoever did this was considerably more subtle,” the minister of mathematics pointed out.

“It can’t have been Lucheng! Since the last breach, I found an information source there that told me their secondary facility had been raided by Talon. They stole experimental technology that utilizes dark matter,”. Moira tried extra hard to not side-eye Doctor Takahashi. She didn’t know she had her own connection with them. _Note to self, update Aoi’s profile._ Moira had to come up with something to throw them off of at least her trail, if not the others.

“What if it was the missing watchman?” she offered. The other Ministers looked at her curiously.

“What? According to his profile, he’s been with us for a decade? Why him?”. Moira knew exactly what to say.

“So he knew his job well. All the nooks, crannies, and blind spots. All the little ways to get around. People can be bought. Ten years of employment can easily be overlooked for the right price,” she elaborated, “And you said Lucheng was raided recently? Perhaps they’d be looking to re-up their supply and start over,”. _Oh, I’m good! I’m SO good!_ Her cockiness was not unfounded. Several faces were eyeing her curiously. Could that be the answer? Moira shrugged and eased up a little bit, not wanting to come off as dramatic.

“It’s a possibility anyway. No harm looking into all ideas... Nice and neat little story for the backers to hear, too, should word get out, and no answers have been found,”. There! That would sell it for sure! The waiter bots slid in while bringing their entrees out, and not a moment too soon. The metal lid was removed, revealing her roast boar. It was no walk-in-the-gardens-with-a-gorgeous-woman, but it would do to raise her spirits.

 

**.          .          .          .          .**

 

Symmetra was turning in for the night after an otherwise quiet and uneventful day. She’d left the party hastily, and went straight back to her hotel. Sanjay had messaged, wondering if she wanted to join him for dinner (since her plans with Moira had fallen through). She replied with a tactful “I’m still not feeling well”, and thankfully he bought her excuse. She’d gone so far as to seclude herself in her hotel room, knowing full well she didn’t have it in her to venture back out. That was its own little tragedy. She wished Oasis was her home, just so she could feel familiar and comfortable at that moment.

She ordered room service and paid to have an in-room massage. She meditated, and took an absurdly-long soak, refilling the tub with more hot water whenever it grew too cool. And through all of it, the occasional flashes of the dark matter grew farther and farther apart. She didn’t know what the night would bring. She hoped for fewer nightmares. She tossed and turned on her mattress; not because she was anxious, but because of the temporary time change. She flopped from her stomach to her back and sighed.

“Hola,” Sombra greeted, her face suddenly hovering over her.

“FUCK!” she yelped, and nearly hopped out of bed from the startling video image that opened before her. It was a typical video chat; like she’d simply called her on her phone.

“You okay?” she asked with a snicker. Sym sat up, pulled her pillow out from behind her, and swatted the hovering window. The projection distorted a bit before righting itself.

“You STARTLED me,” Symmetra snapped, stating the obvious.

“Sorry... You going to bed already?” Sombra asked, obviously shocked. Symmetra narrowed her eyes.

“YES!” she clipped, figuring her answer obvious, and her confusion palpable.

“Poor tia,” Sombra muttered to herself.

“What?” Symmetra asked for clarification.

“Nothing. Just figured you’d be enjoying what Oasis has to offer right now,” she cryptically answered. Symmetra buried her face in her palm, massaging her temples with her thumb and index finger.

“Sombra, why are you calling?”. Not only was the call startling, but it was just so... out of the blue! She didn’t think they were at a level of friendship where casual phone calls were made. She pulled the silky platinum sheets down from under her arms and slumped more comfortably.

“Oh! Well... I wanted to check on you, you know. Just... last night was crazy,” Sombra explained.

“Oh! Yes, it was, but I’m feeling alright I suppose,” she started. She was about to add a polite “and how are you feeling?”, but Sombra stepped in first.

“You, uh... You have any nightmares?”. Sombra suddenly wasn’t looking back at the camera. She was pained; not physically, of course. _She’s... scared!_ It came as a shock to her. Sombra seemed so fearless and bold; collected in every situation. It was one of her more impressive qualities if she were to be honest. Seeing her show a moment of vulnerability was humanizing.

“Yes, actually. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m hoping having a quiet afternoon and evening will help me tonight. And you?” she was finally able to ask. Sombra grimaced.

“Lot of them. Couldn’t sleep. Tried blaming it on the cot on my ship. Not the most comfortable thing, y’know? But, every time I even tried to close my eyes... It was just... weird, you know? Like, it didn’t hurt, but it kinda’ did? Like, it was so scary it MADE me hurt! Felt like I was coming apart,”.

“Your attack, or however you wish to label it, was considerably worse than mine. I can tell you I feel better now than I did last night. Perhaps you will just need time,” Sym assured, but a thought occurred to her, “Wait... You didn’t fly unrested, did you?!”. Obviously, they’d arrived safe and sound, but the thought that she would do so was alarming altogether! Sombra didn’t share her “safety first” motto, it seemed.

“Hm? No. No, Amelie wouldn’t let me. Said somebody stupid enough to get too close to the target shouldn’t be flying. What a softie,” Sombra smirked. The words were harsh, but Symmetra also saw their teammate’s logic. An unrested pilot was a danger to all.

“Is there anything you do that helps you relax? Mild exercise? A craft of some sort?” she wondered and Sombra snorted.

“Yeah. Got a way. Smoking THAT is kinda’ frowned-upon, but I’m going to do that anyway,” she said. Symmetra suddenly remembered a few anxious parties, always wondering if the dormitory monitors would find them. All in all, she found the experience not worth the panic and worry.

“Maybe take a few days?” she suggested. Sombra nodded and straightened up. She was still curious and wanted to know something else.

“Hey! One more thing... When... when it grabbed you... did anything weird happen when it pulled you in? Like... did you feel like you were coming apart?”.

“Yes, and it was as if I were... pixelating. Little glowing bits of me kept separating from my hand,” she quietly described. She didn’t want to be reminded of it, but if it helped someone else find comfort, then perhaps it would soften the tremor and pangs of panic.

“Mine was like... All of my wires were coming out and I was unraveling. It was horrifying! But... I was also fascinated, I think,”. That was a feeling she herself had experienced, and she tried suppressing it. A person should not be awestruck by something that nearly killed them, should they?

“It’s something I hope neither of us experiences again, fascinating or no,” she replied, hoping Sombra could sense her finality.

“Yeah. Yeah, once was enough,” she agreed, and yawned, “Thanks, Sym. I think this helped a little,”. Sym’s face softened into a smile.

“I am happy to help,”. The pair exchanged a bit more back and forth before ending the call (with Sombra finishing the conversation in her typical snarky demeanor). Sym felt anything but tired then. Her mind buzzed with circling thoughts, and she needed a distraction. She grabbed her pillow and tugged the sheet off her bed before stepping out onto the balcony. A carved settee covered in cushions awaited her. She plopped down, leaning against the arm, and watched the city below her. She could see tall buildings with blips of lights winking on and off. The typical sounds of urban life became a gentle hum. If she squinted her eyes just right, she could even see the gondolas gliding back and forth.  _Maybe I'll just sleep here tonight._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might take a while for 12 to come out. My next 5 weeks consist of "convention work, house work, another convention, 10th anniversary get-away, and MORE convention work." Sorry, friends!


	12. Ch 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of his own sanity Junkrat decides it's best if he just thinks of Sym as a friend. Sym is continually plagued by nightmares, and decides she needs some sort of break or distraction. Perhaps a game of chess will work? But one question remains. Why is it so bloody hot outside?!

If Sym liked Moira, then she liked her, and that was all there was to it. Junkrat reminded himself that repeatedly the entire flight back to Brazil in hopes that it would sink in and he could finally get over his stupid crush. _See, mate. She don't even like blokes. Never stood a chance to begin with._ He repeated that to himself for consolation, too.

It didn't sit well with him on a whole. Sure, part of that was just petty jealousy, but Moira had always given off a creepy vibe (long before Sym even came into the picture). She was unsettling to be around, rude, and arrogant. Why couldn’t Sym see how dangerous this woman was? But then, Moira hadn't actually DONE anything wrong that he was aware of apart from the screams (which he hadn't heard much of as of late), and then he would chalk it all up to that petty jealousy all over again, leading him in circles. He was being a git, and his friend could like whomever she wanted to like, even if it was somebody whom he didn't approve of.

When Sym came back to the lab, she was yawning and holding a mug of something other than tea. It was coffee, and she only drank that when she was desperate to stay awake. In fairness, he was yawning, too. The time-change between Oasis and Brazil was a rough one, and the longer he stayed with Talon, the more he was learning about the concept of jet-lag. At least he had an extra day over her to adjust.

“Mornin’!” he cheerfully greeted. Symmetra managed a half-hearted “good morning” in response, and settled into her chair at her desk. He wouldn’t necessarily say her clothes were sloppy-looking, but she hadn’t taken the time to neatly tuck her black blouse into her gray linen slacks. She’d left her hair down, apparently not wanting to fuss with twisting it into a bun or something of that nature. She wasn’t wearing makeup either, and he could see the dark circles shadowing her eyes. She stared disinterestedly at her stack of blueprints in front of her, slowly sipping at her mug. Sym was looking (and behaving) rather un-Sym-like, and his curiosity was beginning to pique.

“Er, uh... Didja’ have fun with Moira? Think she mentioned you two gettin’ dinner or somethin’,” he tried, hoping she’d placate him with an answer, no matter what it was. To his surprise, she shook her head no. She raised her mug to her lips once more; just long enough for said curiosity to burn him up. Did Moira fuck up? Did she say or do something to put Sym off? Would he finally have a proper excuse to dislike the woman, who broke his friend’s heart?

“No, she was called away on Ministry business. We are to reschedule at a later date. Work comes before friends when it comes to something that important,” she explained. _Friends? Are they just friends?_ Junkrat nonchalantly flicked through his own notebook and scribbled a note on one of his designs and formulas. _Not so much gunpowder next time... Burnt. Off. Eyebrows._

“Junkrat... Do you?” she started, and paused. He looked back up from his notebook and over his shoulder. She’d wrapped both her hands around her mug, and stared intently into its contents. She wrinkled her nose and frowned.

“Do I what?” he prodded.

“Never mind,” she muttered, "Ignore me,".

“Hard t’do that now that y’gone an’ said somethin’,” he chuckled. She didn’t immediately respond. _Alright. Somethin’ fer sure is up... She’s awful tired..._

“You, ah... You ain’t lookin’ so good. Kinda’ lookin’ like Som a bit. Maybe take t’day off? Not like we got anythin’ goin’ on,” he suggested. The flight back had been rough for their mutual friend. She was too exhausted and shaken to fly, and she kept trying to curl up on the uncomfortable cot. After a few minutes, she’d start twitching and mumbling before starting to make little whimpers and cries. He or Hog would then nudge her to snap her out of it, but it only helped so much before it would happen all over again. Perhaps Sym was suffering in the same way, and that thought triggered an unpleasant pang in his chest.

“I can’t, unfortunately. I have to finish up some correspondence concerning the new engineering wing. I don’t mind this sort of work. I typically prefer it, actually,” she said, turning back to her station, and bringing up her computer screen. Junkrat slowly spun around on his stool and leaned back against the edge of his desk staring upward at the ceiling. Paperwork, neckties, office life. He’d only managed to observe a little bit of it when he and Hog were invited over to Hyde Global. Was it like in all of those sitcoms and such? Did Sym have a water cooler back at Vishkar headquarters that she and everyone else gathered around? They probably all had on-going jokes that you just HAD to be there to understand. Something about her told him she wasn’t quite that kind of person. If the photos in her article were real, she had a sleek and modern office to herself and probably didn’t take part in that sort of thing.

“Heh... Could you imagine me workin’ in an office?” he joked, not realizing he'd said it out loud until it was too late. Sym stopped what she was doing, and looked at him incredulously. She raised an eyebrow.

“I can honestly say I can’t. I don’t mean that to sound rude. You just strike me as someone who’d loathe this sort of life,” she replied with a smirk. Junkrat smiled in kind.

“I dunno’ ‘bout that! Here! Lemme’ try!” he chirped, and sat a little straighter on his stool. He reached behind him for some sort of prop and located a dirty old tea mug he’d neglected to take back to the cafeteria. He held it out towards her in a pointing sort of motion.

“So’d you catch that match last night? I’m tellin’ ya’! This is gonna’ be the Wallabies’ season!” he started.

“There’s more to office life than sports talk, you know,”.

“Did you hear Maurice in accountin’ pashed Janine in th’broom closet?” he tried.

“No, but now they should probably be reprimanded for such behavior... assuming 'pashed' means what I think it means,,” Sym snipped, but as he squinted at her, he could see a little smile trying to tug at the corner of her mouth.

“Aw, c’mon now! It was after Rocko’s birthday party! Can’t be mad at ‘em when we all got proper bombed out, now!” he said in Maurice and Janine’s defense.

“You’d better get started with those expense reports. Arditya isn’t a fan of tardiness,” she forewarned. She was playing along, and it was actually fun! He wondered how long he could keep it going.

“Eh, I’ve got time. Heard he’s leavin’ fer a nice holiday. When th’ cat’s away, am I roight?”.

“The Junkrats will play?”. Junkrat laughed, feeling lighthearted and at ease. And Sym? She was smiling, and her own shoulders bobbed up and down with the last few silent chuckles. She swiveled back around and gazed at her screen. A moment later, a ping alerted them both that she’d received a message.

“Well now! It appears I’ll have the day off after all! Sanjay says the board is currently stuck in Miami while a hurricane passes through,” she informed. With them waylaid, she could relax and take her time on her end of the project. She drummed her fingers across her desk; her painted nails clicking across the surface.

“Are you invested in anything important?” she asked. Now it was Junkrat’s turn to look incredulous.

“Ain’t exactly th’kinada’ guy who’s got a pressin’ schedule,” he shrugged, wondering once again what she was about to ask. Junkrat suddenly saw a change across Symmetra’s face. It was a devious little smile, and it thrilled him!

“Let’s... let’s skip today! I haven’t done it since university!” she suggested; her eyes sparkling, and Junkrat laughed out loud.

“Wot?! YOU?!” he hooted.

“I... Work was supposed to be a distraction. The other night... I don’t...” she trailed off, the adventurous spark in her eyes slowly fading. The pieces of her unusual behavior were starting to fall into place, and he wasn't sure he liked the picture. _Shit! No no no! We were havin’ fun!_ He wouldn’t let anything tarnish the moment. He popped off his seat and jumped right up to look down at her.

“No! No, you’re gonna’ have fun t’day! Look... I know th’mission must’a scared ya’. Fucked Som up a bit too, so I get it, I think. Just need t’not think ‘bout somethin’? Well, I’m real good at bein’ distractin’,” he said, and held his hand out, “C’mon! If it’s waggin’ y’want, well, I’m a professional!”. His agreement brought the excited light back to her eyes, and damn if it didn’t set his stomach fluttering all over again. Maybe they weren’t meant to be lovers, but they were still meant to be friends, and he realized he liked that just as much.

  
**.           .           .           .           .**

  
Junkrat was a fantastic distraction, and far more entertaining than answering emails, editing blueprints, and answering emails about editing blueprints. While she only woke up once the night before, the nightmare had been intense and far too vivid. If anything, it was more of a flashback than a fanciful hallucination from her subconscious, and she was ready to leave it behind her. What she needed was some sort of unbridled source of positivity, and she found it in (of all places) an explosives-obsessed peg-legged Australian. How very odd her life had become.

“What sorta’ stuff you wanna’ do? Get Hog? Ride out inta’ town? You ever ride a motorcycle b’fore? Er, guess I should be askin’ have ya ever ridden in a side-car? No room behind Hog, an' he won't let me go without 'im. Still lots a fun, though! Mayhem Mobile’s right out in th’hanger. You ever been in th’hanger? Fuck, that’s a dumb question. I know you have! I meant th’old one! The one where everyone stashes their rides? That’s where me an’ Hog keep ‘er, an’ our old trailer, too! All sortsa’ fancy stuff in there! Somebody's got a pair of jet-skis in there! Can you believe it?! Think Hog said he rode on one as a kid. Said they’re a blast, too!” he rambled as they walked aimlessly together down the fluorescent-lit corridors. She smirked to herself at the mention of HER jet-skis but thought it more fun to keep it a secret for the time being. She’d surprise him and everyone else one of these days by her announcement, but until then she’d keep her mouth shut.

“Oh! And Som’s got a motorcycle there, too! Real flashy little thing. Lotta’ lights and purple skulls. She let me ride with ‘er in Dorado. Looked ridiculous, though. Think I’m too tall for it. Knees practically up to my ears!” he said while motioning towards his head. Symmetra snickered at the image forming in her mind.

“It sounds interesting, but I was actually thinking of enjoying some fresh air, and perhaps some chess. I haven’t forgotten, by the way. You still owe me a game,”. Junkrat stopped in his tracks.

“Lemme get this straight. You’re waggin’ off... t’play chess?”.

“Yes. I want to have fun today. Chess is a game, and games are fun,” she replied, stating the obvious.

“Look, I ain’t sayin’ it ain’t fun, but, when you’re waggin’ off, y-,”.

“Please stop calling it that. It sounds... unseemly,”.

“What? Waggin’ off?”.

“Yes!” Sym clipped, stifling an awkward grimace.

“What’s ‘unseemly’ ‘bout waggin’ off?”

“It sounds like a euphemism for... something else...” she regretfully explained. Junkrat stared at her with a confused look. She knew he had used the slang term innocently, and she probably should have just shut her mouth. _Oh gods! What if he thinks I'm some sort of pervert?!_ Her face ignited with a fiery blush. The gears in Junkrat’s head must have been stuck because it didn’t turn over and he just squinted at her.

“Whatcha’ mean? We’re just waggin’ off t’gether. What’s wrong with havin’ a wag? I don’t-Oh! Ooooooooh, okay! I hear it now too! Alright, duly noted,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck as his face also broke out into a splash of crimson. He cleared his throat, and Symmetra just wanted to turn right around, go back to her room and hide under her desk for making such an uncomfortable observation.

“Soooooo chess! Alright, chess! Let’s, ah... Oh! I got th’board up in my room! Let’s grab it! Maybe get some snacks, roight? I’m starvin’! May've skipped breakfast,”. She was grateful that he was moving on so easily, as though the anxiety-inducing moment had never happened.

"We should stop at my room as well. I have a couple books I wanted to grab in case I'd like to do some reading later,". As they were closer to her room, they stopped there first. She unlocked her door and went straight to her small bookshelf. She ran her fingers across a few spines, deciding what would be the better selection.

"I've got a few murder-mystery books written in English if you'd like to borrow one. I was thinking of this one for myself," she noted, waiting for his response. Junkrat stood outside her door as though there was some invisible barrier that he wasn't allowed to cross.

"You can come in if you'd like," she said, granting him permission. He stepped inside, looking around.

"Lotta' blues in here. Couldn't tell what color it was when me an' Som dropped ya' off. Y'know. Back after Paris," he reminded as he studied her room during daylight hours.

"Oh! That's right! You have been here before. But, yes. Blue is my favorite color. I find it calming. Did you have a preference for a book?". Junkrat shrugged his shoulders.

"No worries, mate. I like funny stuff. I'll find somethin' fer me in my room," he assured. Sym gathered a couple selections and went to her closet to pull out her old messenger bag. She tucked them inside and motioned for them to leave.

There was something oddly sweet about him that day; a kindness that finally decided to show itself.  _Or perhaps it's always been there, and I am just now starting to notice..._  He chattered away about anything that came to his mind, and he didn’t even seem to mind if she wasn’t entirely listening. It was just nice to not be stuck in her own head. She couldn’t quite put a finger on how she felt at that moment, but she loomed somewhere near content.

That feeling disappeared the moment Junkrat opened the door to his room. She tried ever so hard to keep her eyes from popping open in surprise. _Don’t judge. Don’t judge. He is your friend. He’s saved your life. Don’t say anything..._

“You can not possibly live like this,”. _...fuck..._

“Wot?” Junkrat asked as she forcefully bit the side of her cheek to shut herself up. Sym rarely ever let her tongue slip like that, but how could she ignore the stacks of books, the piles of dirty clothes (some of which she’d never even seen him wear), and the multiple dishes he’d brought back from the cafeteria? That wasn’t even taking tools and parts into account (which was what most of the clutter was comprised of).

“How can you even move through this room without tripping or kicking something over?” she asked. She bit her cheek again. She was being judgmental, and it was something she was trying to work through. _It’s the meeting in Rio all over again._

“Hah! See, that’s th’thing. Looks like a big ol’ mess to you, but t’me it makes perfect sense. See, my memory’s a bit shot, remember? Least, I think I told ya’,” he started while tapping his forehead in display, “but I can always remember where I put stuff, even if it don’t make sense. Well, usually I can remember... sometimes... Sides, ain’t like it’s a big room. I can just look around if I don’t remember where I put somethin’,”. He let out a friendly chuckle, letting her know that all was well. He hadn’t taken her comment personally. Sym crossed her arms and tried to keep her opinions to herself.

“Roight. Chessboard. Now I left that...,” he muttered, trailing off as his search began. He dove down to the floor to look under his bed. Sym busied herself by looking at the piles of random bits and baubles surrounding a stack of magazines sitting on his dresser; a handful of loose change, a broken digital watch, a few screws of varying sizes, and a bright red and white marble.

“Ah-HA! Knew that’s where I left m’Rusty Dingos shirt!” he beamed, holding up a tattered black t-shirt sporting a maniacal-looking metal canine creature. There was a list of dates and cities printed on the back. It was a concert tour shirt. Symmetra had never heard of the band, but she gathered from image alone that it probably wasn’t her style of music. Junkrat dove back down to return to his search (after tossing the shirt on a random pile).

Sym wrinkled her nose at the aroma in his room. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant but it was strongly present. There was definitely a masculine musk that clung to it, along with some unique nuances of his own; sweat and gunpowder. A scuffle of Junkrat’s boot against the carpeted floor drew her attention back to him, bent over with his butt in the air and his shorts starting to sag to an uncomfortable level. Sym’s mouth drew into a thin line, and she tried to find something else to look at. Her eyes darted back to his dresser, and that’s when she noticed a familiar face staring back at her.

It was her own face on the cover of the magazine. _What?! That issue is over a year old! How would he...? WHY would he even have this?!_ Curiosity was eating her alive. It made no sense! Junkrat was not an architech. He was a builder of some sort, but certainly not the sort of person who read that particular publication. A part of her just wanted to ask him about it, but the subject was far too personal. She doubted he would have given her a straight-forward answer as it was, and what answer could he even give that would feel appropriate and not make her uncomfortable?

“THERE you are!” he beamed again, proudly holding the checkered board up for display. From muscle memory, he pulled a beat-up messenger bag of his own from beneath his rumpled black sheets. He slid the board inside it and grabbed a drawstring pouch from his nightstand.

“And I got the pieces in this bag here!” he said after tightly cinching it up. With everything located and packed, they (thankfully) left the memory of the magazine and his disaster of a room behind them and headed over to the kitchens. While they’d casually strolled through the halls, the moment they approached the pantry corridor, he held his orange metal hand up.

“Hold it!” he instructed and looked around to make sure no one was watching (despite the security cameras existing in plain sight recording everything).

“Junkrat... the food here is free. It is included with the job. No one-,”. Junkrat motioned her to be silent. He crouched down low, meeting her at eye level. His amber eyes locked with hers in such a serious manner.

“I know!” he whispered, “but it’s more fun this way!”. Sym gave him a puzzled smirk. He whipped back around, and dramatically “snuck” through the door. _How utterly absurd._ She shrugged her shoulders and followed behind (walking like a normal person). As he hugged the walls and tiptoed around the floating kitchen bots, he reminded her of a cartoon character; animated and over-the-top.

Junkrat scanned the shelves and cupboards, sometimes smiling, sometimes sneering. He’d grab a box and give the contents a look. In went a handful of snacks ranging from healthy to decidedly unhealthy. When it came to the refrigerator of bottled beverages, he started with holding out a bottle of cola. She shook her head no. Lemonade? No, not today. Perhaps water? She thought about it and shrugged for a maybe. He grabbed out one more bottle, and it was jasmine iced tea. She nodded with a small smile and in the bag it went. They snuck back out (well, he did) and they roamed the compound to find a good spot to play.

“No wonder no one is out. It’s so steamy out here,” Symmetra commented. Junkrat stopped his clunking boot and ticking peg.

“Yeah? Y’wanna’ go back in?”. She shook her head no and undid the top button of her blouse.

“I hardly ever leave this building. I wanted some fresh air after all, humid though it may be. It reminds me of Utopaea... Let’s just find somewhere with shade,”. Junkrat said he knew a spot and led her right to it. It was a recreational area. There was a basketball court with a small pitch and a tennis court. Surrounding it were some metal tables and benches. All of it was protected by a translucent mesh barrier, allowing the small bit of breeze that existed to blow through. The tall trees surrounding it provided a wonderful canopy, blocking the sun just right. She claimed the ideal seat available, and Junkrat placed the board on the table between them. He fetched out the drawstring pouch from the bag and sat it on the table while he went back in for the snacks. Sym grabbed the bag to examine it more closely.

It was without a doubt hand stitched. The fabric felt like an old t-shirt, and she was fairly certain he’d probably just cut one up for the use of the material. The stitches were uneven and wobbly, but he was at least competent with a needle and thread. That was further demonstrated by an embroidered patch stitched to the top. A scrap of olive green fabric sported a profile of a knight piece sewn with mustard yellow thread. The drawstring was a repurposed glittery pink shoelace.

“Where did you learn to sew?” she asked, undoing another button on her blouse. _I should have just changed into something else._ The scent of foliage and the sounds of birds singing to each other reminded her why she wanted to be outside in the first place. The life surrounding her put her at ease.

“Hmm? Oh! Uh, school, actually. Or, what Junkers call a school, anyway. Y’had yer professor that taught ya’ readin’ an’ writin’. The other taught ya’ addin’ an’ subrtactin’. Then ya’ had yer “common sense” professors. One lady... Oh, she was a right bitch, but she taught me how t’sew an’ make stuff. How t’cook, too. Angry bloke taught me how t’build stuff an’ fix things up. Metal workin’ an’ all that. No one told me how t’make bombs, though. Taught myself that,” he rambled.

“You’re self-taught?” she asked, somewhat alarmed. While she wasn’t entirely surprised, she always figured an apprentice should learn from a skilled master when it came to interests like that. Junkrat twisted the cap to his soda.

“Yeah! Well, took a long time. Soon as I knew how letters an’ numbers worked, I found a lotta’ old books. Science books. Engineerin’ books. Oo, I loved those. But yeah, started with kid stuff, and just kept readin’ them until they got harder an harder. Z’how I knew I was on th’right track.”

“Fascinating,” she said, admiring the creation despite its visible flaws. He was a man lacking a formal education, but he continued to repeatedly prove himself as unconventionally intelligent. She also noticed he didn’t bother to ask her about her education, leading her to believe that he must have read her article and it wasn’t just sitting there by some mathematically impossible coincidence. Dossiers alone wouldn’t have provided that bit of information to him. _Or I am overthinking this?_

“Alright!” Junkrat started, snitching the bag from her grasp. He began to set up the pieces, giving her the blue ones and himself the orange.

“Fair warnin’, Sym! I’ve been practicin’ on improvin’ my strategy!” he announced, wiggling his eyebrows tauntingly. _Oh, NOW you want to properly compete, hmm?_

“Relying solely upon luck doesn’t constitute a strategy,” she taunted back. He motioned for her to make the first move, and she moved a pawn. Junkrat’s eyes flicked down for a minute before selecting his piece.

“Yeah, I’ll admit...” he started, moving his hand towards a different pawn instead, “Dumb luck won't work twice in a row. Z’why I’ve been tryin’ out new things on Hog. Think I got th’hang of it now,”. He placed the pawn, and Symmetra glanced down to size up her next step.

“Ah. Perhaps we should have invited him. Next time we play, would you be kind enough to ask him to join us?” she asked while moving her piece. Sweat was starting to form on her neck and without his shirt on she could see the same sheen starting to glisten on his chest. _Well... I can safely say I now  truly regret wanting to play this outside!_ She undid one final button, and rolled up her sleeves past her elbows.

“Next time, she says... So there’s gonna’ be a next time? What if I win again?”. His grin told her she was being baited. She waited for him to make his move before answering.

“Well, there will have to be a next time, because I know you’ll want to redeem yourself after losing,” she said, trying to match his tone. Junkrat eyed her with smoldering amber embers. Whether he’d meant to or not, the fact remained that there she sat with a sudden tremor running up her spine! A bead of sweat ran down the back of her neck. _Blast this long hair!_ She reached into her pocket and found a hair tie. She used it to coil her hair into a quick bun so no wisps or strands could stick to her nape.

“You got a lotta’ spark to ya’ t’day Sym! I like it!” he snickered. She made her move, and grabbed her bottle of tea.

“Hm. Yes. It seems this activity is working as intended. Though, I wish I had the foresight to play indoors after all, or at least had dressed more appropriately. I may have underestimated the climate here,” she said, hissing out a sigh from the heat that continually coursed through her. _This is stupid! The weather is just like it is back home! Why am I sweating so much?!_

“See, that’s why I don't waste time wearin’ a shirt at all most days,” he said, proudly displaying his bare chest and abdomen with a sweep of his calloused hand. Yes. Yes, she could see quite clearly that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and while that was fairly typical of him, for some reason every single muscle appeared perfectly bulged and chiseled right then. Sym brought her bottle of iced tea to her lips and took several large gulps. Her mouth had never felt so dry before.

“What about that one you found when you were looking for the chessboard? You seemed to like that one,” she asked, continuing the game.

“Wot? The Rusty Dingos shirt? Yeah. Might as well sometime, I guess. Gotta' support Junkertown legends,” he shrugged. Another turn was made, and by the end of it, he’d managed to capture one of her pawns. _Ah, the first cut._

“It is a Junker band? I didn’t realize there were other Junkers roaming around outside Australia,”. She set herself up to take his rook, provided he didn’t move it.

“Not a lot of us. Most don’t even make it as far as outta’ the Outback. Gotta’ get proper geared up. Then y’gotta’ figure out what it is you’re even gonna’ do once you make it out. Most who leave end up comin’ back ‘cuz they didn’t realize what it was gonna’ be like outside,” he explained and moved the rook that she was gunning for out of the way.

“Nice try, mate!” he said, tossing her a wink. She hid her frustration from the missed opportunity by taking another gulp of tea... or was it a blush she was hiding?

“The Rusty Dingos started in Junkertown. Dead center. They sing about all sortsa’ stuff we go through. Kinda’ got their own sound, too. But playin’ in one town don’t make much money, so they got out. Sounded so different from all th’other shit on th’radio... AW FUCK!” he said, pausing to howl at the loss of his bishop so early in the game. She gave him a knowing look. She wasn’t a player to trifle with. The little victory put a smile on her face and a small flutter in her heart.

“And I assume they earned a recording contract?” she prodded. Junkrat hunched down to look at the board from various angles.

“Yeah. Got some big deal. Ended up goin’ on a worldwide tour roight as me an’ Hog got to Indonesia. That’s where I got th’shirt. Also where I found those crisps y’liked. Been out fer a while now. S’pose I’ll have t’make a trip over there t’stock back up,” he said, finishing his story. A few more turns left the pair equally matched with four missing pieces, and both growing optimistic that their victory was drawing near.

“You know, you could very easily order those online. You don’t need to buy them in person,” she reminded. Junkrat looked up from the board.

“Wot’s that now?”.

“Your crisps. You can order them and have them delivered here,” she elaborated, and something grabbed a hold of her, “You can have all sorts of things delivered, of course. Snack foods, parts and tools, magazines, clothing, grooming products,”.

“I know how internet shoppin’ works, Sym,” he chuckled and settled back to the game. There was no sort of response from him at the mention of magazines. Perhaps it truly was just a coincidence; some random bit of literature that somehow tagged along with them on the way back from some heist. _Why do I even care?_ The air was suddenly stagnant and growing thicker around her.

“Heheh, there goes yer knight!” he crowed while dangling the orange horse head in front of her. _What does it even matter?_ The heat around her continued to grow too unbearable, and propriety be damned! Besides, he'd seen her in her swimsuit before. How was this any different? She undid the rest of her buttons, and peeled the black blouse off, revealing the matching black tank top she wore underneath. She felt comfortable and confident enough in their friendship to let him see her like that; a level of casual she’d never been around any other workmate before. She was also roasting alive and driving herself mad. For her own sanity, she needed to end the game as quickly as possible. She glared at the board, tuning out everything around her, and a path presented itself. It was risky but it would be worth it. She put her second knight on the line.

“Aw, Sym! You sure do love feedin’ me pieces, don’t ya’?” he teased, falling for her bait. He was so cocky and smug, and while she detested that sort of thing in most men, it manifested differently with him. He was being playful, not condescending.

“Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ my queen!” he said, swapping the pieces out. He blew a kiss towards the orange queen. Sweat rolled from her chin, down her neck, and disappeared somewhere in her cleavage. She grabbed her own queen, and instantly Junkrat’s smile fell. He realized what had happened the moment she’d touched the blue piece. She daintily lifted it up and dangled it over his king threateningly. She didn’t need to put on a show about it. The behavior was very unsportsmanlike, and very unlike herself. _Why am I behaving like this?_ She toppled his king over and replaced it.

“You love your queen, but it appears MINE was meant to rule,” she gloated, leaning back. Junkrat buried his face in his palm and groaned at the loss. What she liked about playing with him was that he wasn’t being a sore loser about it. He held his hand out for a friendly shake, and she took it.

“Seems that way. Well Sym, looks like y’got me,” he conceded with a sweet smile. Her heart stopped beating as she finally realized what was happening around her; her reaction to the magazine, her suddenly dry mouth, her unabashed staring at his body, the flutter in her chest at the sight of his smile and laughter. There she was, drenched with perspiration, alone, and shamelessly flirting with Junkrat. _Well... this certainly complicates things, doesn't it?_


	13. Ch 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a stretch of time, Sym attends a meeting concerning Moira's dark matter discoveries. The doctor reminds her that she still owes her a date. Akande puts her and Junkrat together for a personal task. Sym also discovers someone who possesses possible hardlight capabilities.

So much time had passed that Symmetra began to think that perhaps Moira had just forgotten her promise for dinner altogether. As soon as they’d returned from Oasis, the doctor had practically locked herself up in her research lab, rarely venturing out. No one had seen her in the cafeteria. There were no reports of her coming back to the pool for swimming or diving, and even Sombra (whose nose was in everybody’s business) said she’d hardly heard a peep out of her, let alone something of substance. Sym later learned that dark matter research was something that Moira had always dreamed about; particularly what sort of things it could unlock when applied to her discoveries in genetics.

Moira was driven and passionate about her work, and there was something admirable about that. Sombra had mentioned it being more of an obsession, but Sym understood that sort of feeling. After all, wasn’t she always the one at the Vishkar Academy who endured the same sort of snickering and gossip behind her back? “There’s life outside of Hardlight” they’d said. _Yes. A dark and dreary one._

After a month with very little sight of the doctor, she’d figured the offer had passed. Moira had lost any interest she had in her, be it romantic or otherwise, and it was just as well. Remaining professional with somebody of Moira's standing was logically the best practice. She was also still dealing with those very odd sensations and ideas that bubbled up every time she saw Junkrat, and since she worked with him every day, it was becoming more than just an inconvenience. _  
_

Every day she saw him sitting next to her; always smiling, chatty, and friendly, and therein lay the problem. She was becoming smitten with the man, and she knew she really shouldn’t. He was a Junker, for crying out loud! He was crude and used profanity and never wore a shirt. His room was atrocious, his table-manners were nonexistent, and he never wore a shirt. He was loud, showered only twice a week (at best), and HE NEVER WORE A SHIRT! 

The physical attraction she could understand and allow. It had been a long time since she’d had any sexual contact with anyone, and despite lacking a full head of hair he had everything else she looked for in a lover (physically speaking). She would also admit to herself that, if properly cleaned up, he could be unconventionally handsome. She liked his angular and narrow jaw, the point of his widow’s peak, and the unique color of his eyes. Junkrat had an air of boyish charm about him but that was because he was still very immature, and that was something she couldn't allow in anything beyond friendship. 

One particularly lonely night, she'd sat in her room considering asking him to dinner. Then she tried imagining how something like that would even play out. Assuming they were even granted access to leave the compound, where would she even take him? He didn’t strike her as someone who knew how to behave themselves in a fine-dining experience, let alone dress the part... But he did own a suit. 

She could remember that in fine detail, and the memory of him rescuing her suddenly felt a little more romantic; the hazy recollection of waking up wrapped in his jacket the next day seemed sweeter somehow. That incident reminded her altogether of why exactly she befriended him in the first place. She had his back, he had hers, and she was thankful for it. 

_A good friend... I never did thank him properly... Nor Roadhog... And Sombra, too?_ She’d pulled her away from the dark matter to begin with, putting herself in the way of its grasp. An idea began to form. She wanted to show proper thanks in a friendly manner. She would offer to treat the three of them to dinner. She would pick a place that would be approachable for them. She would be able to show her gratitude, and with the other two there, she’d be far less likely to give in to poor decisions or anything that would lead to awkwardness and strained interactions with the man she sat next to nearly every day.

She entered the lab as she normally did, started up her computer, and sipped her tea as she glanced at her phone for any messages or memos. There was something from Sanjay concerning opera tickets. _Nothing of consequence._ Junkrat stumbled in a few minutes later wearing a tattered black t-shirt and holding a can of something sugary and likely pumped full of caffeine. He let out a yawn; his mouth gaping and jaw popping. He rubbed the side of his face to soothe the sensation.

“It seems the tables have turned, and now I am the well-rested one while you are not,” she commented. Junkrat held his finger up to pause her and he chugged the drink in one go. He proceeded to toss the empty can over his shoulder and it landed perfectly in their recycling bin.

“Impressive aim,”. Junkrat grunted a ‘thanks’ and collapsed onto his stool. He slumped forward.

“Junkrat... are you hungover?” she tried. She didn’t smell any alcohol on him, but that was the only explanation she could think of. He sat back up, leaning heavily on his elbows.

“Naw. Just real fuckin’ tired. Stayed up workin’ on th’Mayhem Mobile. Want ‘er in good condition. Then tried sleepin’ but my brain wouldn’t switch off, y’know? You ever have that happen to ya? You try sleepin’ but yer brain won’t let ya? Keeps remindin’ ya of things y’don’t like or pumps ya full of great ideas y’don’t wanna’ ferget?” he explained.

“Yes, on occasion. I am sorry you feel poorly. Why don’t you take today off to rest?” she suggested. Junkrat scooted over a little further from her and pulled a ragged canvas tarp off a section of his work table, revealing a collection of greasy metal parts. He tsked to himself.

“On a bit of a time crunch. Need it ready by Tuesday,” he mumbled and grabbed a rag. He began to clean the grease off of a metal ring. Sym raised her eyebrow.

“What is happening on Tuesday?” she asked. Junkrat’s cheeks turned pink and he tried turning back towards his project so as to hide it.

“Um... It’s, ah, nothin’. Just Hog an’ me. Gonna’ go to a bar. Som says there’s one about twenty-five kilometers from here. Just been a while since we’ve gone somewhere we wanted to, roight?” he explained.

“Oh! A bar?” Sym said, surprised, and her mind began to wander as tried remembering her last outing that was of her own design, “I haven’t been to a bar in ages,”. Junkrat hunched down even more.

“Sorry, Sym. It’s, ah... just gonna’ be me an’ Hog. ‘Sides, don’t sound like your kinda’ place anyway. Real loud an’ dirty. That’s how me an’ Hog like it, but I figured-,”.

“I wasn’t trying to invite myself. I was merely commentating,” she cut in. She didn’t want to say she felt slighted, but it stung a little to be dismissed and excluded so quickly. _Might as well be my university years all over again._ Her former peers were never cruel about it. She just never seemed to be the right person to invite to casually fun experiences. Junkrat was too engrossed in his task to add more to the subject. _Ah. The caffeine has kicked in..._

It was fascinating to watch him when he was focused upon something. His brows would knit together. His nose would scrunch. Sometimes he’d mumble to himself mental notes, or hum some sort of tune. On occasion, he’d tap distinct rhythms with his peg. Upon further observation, she discovered it was a part of his method of calculation without the use of a computer. He was so profoundly unlike anyone she’d ever known, and perhaps that explained her consistently unprofessional interest in him.

With him off in his own world, Symmetra turned back around and looked at her translucent screen. She’d finally received her response from Raj. She’d asked him some time ago to look over her first draft sketches for a proposed city center and give his input. Raj was very like-minded and she trusted his opinion and taste.

**It is a good start Satya, but would it kill you to throw in an angled tower or asymmetrical wing? It’s a modern business district, not some mythical realm.**

**-Raj**

Satya scrunched her nose and squinted her eyes. She clicked the reply icon and the window opened up.

**I have taken your opinion under advisement...** She typed, frowned, and deleted.

**Thank you for your input. It is insightful.**

**-S**

Symmetra buried herself in her work just as much as Junkrat had; the duo feeding off each other’s concentration. An hour and a half ticked by with neither of them really noticing. A knock sounded upon their door, causing both of their heads to pop up while eyeing the door curiously.

“Perhaps Roadhog?” she asked. Junkrat shook his head no.

“Don’t think it’d be him,” he said while tapping the switch for the door. It slid open to reveal Akande. He was dressed rather casually in a tracksuit, covered in a sheen of sweat. Appearances alone told her he’d come over from a workout.

“Ah! Vaswani! There you are!” the imposing man greeted. Sym’s eyebrows raised. Akande had barely shown her any form of attention beyond formalities, let alone go actively looking for her. Held under his bulging muscular arm was his massive gauntlet. Two of the digits were bent at odd angles while parts along the forearm appeared dented and crushed. He sat it down in front of her. It made a loud clunk as it hit the desktop.

“You are good at fixing things, yes? I need this repaired as soon as possible, and do not have the time to send it into my own headquarters,” he said, motioning towards the damaged appendage. She gave a hesitant nod.

“I suppose. Building and design is more my strong suit,” she informed as she heaved the heavy piece upward to have a better look. Akande frowned (more).

“Junkrat, however, may be better suited for this sort of work. Junkrat? Your professional opinion?”. Junkrat awkwardly looked the metal arm over and rubbed his chin.

"Heh... looks like Hog's work," he commented while running his index finger around some of the dents.

"It was. Our regular sparring session grew a little out of hand this time around," Akande confirmed. 

"I didn't know you two practice t'gether,".

“I do not usually oversee the open practice sessions that your partner attends, but when I do, he is the only person powerful enough to offer me a challenge. Many consider us “gym friends” or some such nonsense,” Junkrat stood dumbfounded.

“So THAT’S what he does all day!”. Symmetra blinked slowly as the words hung in the air. Akande stared in complete silence, utterly unreadable.

“What exactly do you think your bodyguard does all day?”. Sym saw sweat begin to form on Junkrat’s brow above a panicked expression that screamed “is this a test?”.

“I dunno. Make stupid faces at people behind his mask? Maybe look at pictures of piglets on his phone?” Junkrat answered, his voice only wavering the slightest. _I am not certain what it is I am witnessing but it is certainly... something!_

Akande laughed. Akande “Doomfist: the Successor” Ogundimu had his head tilted back in a deep chuckle. Junkrat’s own nervous giggle mingled with it until their superior's rich sound came to an end.

“Roadhog was right! You are funny!” he said, continuing to chuckle. Junkrat narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

“He said that?”. Akande confirmed he did, and then his face instantly sobered back up.

“Let’s see if you are as smart as he says you are, too. I need this done. I have already sent the schematics to Vaswani’s inbox,”.

Junkrat nodded, obviously understanding that he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter to begin with, but his head tilted at the mention of the second compliment. Symmetra made a mental note to offer him help, seeing as how she was the one to practically volunteer him for the unexpected task. Akande, however, wasn’t done with his visit. His attention turned back to her.

“Did you receive Korpal’s message concerning our meeting this afternoon?” he inquired. She shook her head no, suddenly remembering the message about the opera tickets and wondered if the meeting had been mentioned there.

“There’s to be a discussion between Talon and Vishkar at two in the head boardroom. Your presence is required,” he said, filling in the bare minimum of information that was necessary. She confirmed his instructions, and he left just as quickly as he’d arrived. Junkrat let out a sad sigh and looked back over at his own personal project that would have to be put on hold until he was finished with repairing the gauntlet. 

“Junkrat, I can help you, if you like,” she offered as she scrolled through her inbox to find the previously mentioned schematics.

“It’s not a big deal. I got it,”. She clicked open the file and a second screen popped up. She enlarged the images and floated them towards him. The projected screen hovered over the tarp and the collection of dirty parts.

“I hope you know that I suggested you not out of deflection. I genuinely do think you are the better selection for this project,” she said, hoping her words to be soothing.

“Yeah?” he asked, his cheeks turning a dusty pink from the compliment and dirt covering his face.

“Of course. I prefer to create from nothing, but you always manage to find a way to make what some would call broken things useful again. You breathe new life and purpose into them. It is a rather admirable quality,” she said as she felt a warmth touch her own smile.

“Th-thanks,” he stuttered and glanced at the images surrounding him.

“But... maybe you’re right. This looks a bit... mighty,” he mumbled while running his thumb over a burnt and twisted joint, “See here? That’s gonna’ need replacin’. Not sure what t’do about that,”. She pulled the design outward into a 3-D holographic model and clicked the other pieces away until she could properly grasp it.

“That is simple enough to replicate,” she said and formed a matching piece in her palm. The blue light flashed as it solidified, and a moment later sat a perfect hardlight copy. Junkrat plucked it from her hand, but a wisp of light clung to it. Curious, Junkrat plucked that too, and began to pull it upward! _I... I can’t believe it!_

Junkrat looked just as shocked as she did with what he did. He looked back and forth from her hand to the little white-blue ribbon dangling from his fingers. He sat the replacement finger joint onto the desktop and tried grasping it with his orange prosthetic fingers. Unfortunately, the light shrank away at their metallic touch, and the ribbon vanished entirely in a small burst of pixels. He let out a sound of protest, though continued to gaze in wonderment.

“Did you SEE that?!” he breathlessly chuckled.

“I did! Junkrat, you... Had you access to a lens...” she trailed off.

“I need one a those t’make it work?” he asked, pointing back over to her illuminated palm. Sym nodded, wanting to explain things further, but her phone rang, interrupting the moment. She excused herself to take the call (it was Raj, and she was obligated to prioritize it). Unfortunately for her, their conversation extended into lunch, which she skipped, and had to force him out of conversation just so she could get to her meeting on time. 

She hustled down the corridors, constantly checking her phone for the time. Akande himself had told her of the meeting, and she wouldn’t allow herself to be tardy. After scanning her palm and eye, the conference room door slid open, and she passed through with two minutes to spare. She grabbed the seat nearest to where Sanjay’s projection would form and gazed over the other people joining her. There was Akande at the head of the table, dressed in more work-appropriate attire than his gym clothes. Lacroix sat to one side, and Reaper to the other. A projection of Max popped up, looking to be seated right along with them at the table. And lastly, there was Moira, seated to the other side of her.

It was the first time she’d actually seen her in any detail in quite a while. The doctor was tired and somewhat haggard looking. Bags hung under her eyes. Her hair didn’t lay quite as neatly as usual, and a few strands of silver began to flank at her temples. Symmetra figured that was to be expected when someone shut themselves in a lab, working night and day.

“Everyone’s present and accounted for, so let’s begin,” Akande ordered. Moira cleared her throat to gain everyone’s attention.

“As you all may have noticed, I’ve made myself a bit of recluse recently,” she smiled, and everyone let out a few appropriate chuckles, including herself.

“That, of course, is what happens when you make several breakthroughs in your research. This stuff practically lets you snap and splice DNA together like they were children’s blocks! And that’s not even the half of it!” she exclaimed. Sym’s eyebrows darted upward in curiosity.

“And what is the other half?” Reaper prodded. Moira’s smile broadened.

“I decided to appease my curiosity, and see what reaction it had with inorganic materials as well. Namely, bionic parts. The dark matter treats both organic and inorganic materials the exact same on a molecular level!”.

“That is fascinating, Moira, and I hate to sound rude or ignorant, but what does that mean for Talon as a whole?” Sanjay asked. 

“Let’s just say, among other things, there will be no shortage of practical applications for dark matter. New weapon technology, physiological enhancements for our soldiers, psychological integration with equipment! Talon will be able to pave the way for a better world!” she explained, and clicked at a keyboard in front of her.

“Nothing is too concrete yet, but I may have actual theories in the works that will require human test subjects,” Moira said as charts, notes, and findings began to hover over the center of the conference table. _So much information already!I 'd wager in the past she had to fight tooth and nail with Overwatch for such requests._

“Is there anything Vishkar can do on our end to help further facilitate your discoveries?” Sanjay offered. Moira seemed pleased with his question and offer of aid. 

“As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t mind some form of representative to look over my research and hear out my ideas. If something sounds promising for your Research and Development team, they can then pass it along,” she answered. Sanjay’s eyes immediately flicked to Symmetra.

“I don’t see why Vaswani can’t lend her expertise on this. When will you be ready?” he suggested. Moira rubbed her chin.

“It won't be for a couple more weeks. I still have a few more procedures to run in hopes to duplicate certain findings. After that, she and I can talk. Will that work for you, Satya?”. Sym agreed, curious to finally see what was happening in Moira’s lab.

The rest of the meeting was a mumbling of recruits, problem areas for the organization, and possible places of interest to expand to. As the talks dwindled down to casual conversation, Max brought up having extra opera tickets.

“Sunday night, there’ll be a performance of Don Giovanni at the Rio De Janeiro Opera House. I’ve managed to procure a private box, and have three remaining tickets if anyone wishes to join me. Akande?” Max asked. Her heartbeat skipped. _Opera tickets?! NO! I forgot to read Sanjay’s email!_ She felt her pocket buzz, and carefully pulled her phone out just far enough to see that Sanjay had messaged her.

**-If he offers you the ticket it, say yes.**

_But... it’s in RIO!_ She couldn’t stand going anywhere near the city; not since the fires, and certainly not since the protesters and angry civilians shoved the company out of the city.

“Thank you for the offer, Max, but I’m not particularly a fan,” Akande replied. The Omnic made the same offer to Reaper. The ghost of a man just sat in silence with his arms crossed, and despite wearing a mask, she could have sworn he was making an incredulous face (if only behind the obscuring cover).

“I assume you asked out of politeness,” he answered in a gravely voice, signaling Max to look elsewhere for people to join him.

“Ms. Lacroix?” Amelie coolly agreed to join him. Sym’s palm began to sweat, hoping beyond hope that there’d be some excuse she could think of that could get her out of going. At the very least, she hoped Max didn’t like her enough to invite her at all.

“Moira?”. O’Deorain tapped her fingers against her chin and mulled it over.

“Well, it would be nice to actually see daylight again,” Moira chuckled, “And I’ve never actually seen Don Giovanni. Count me in,”. _Please don’t ask._

“Korpal! Say you’ll join us! It’s been ages!”. Sanjay shook his head no.

“Apologies, my friend. I would very much love to join you, but alas. I, unfortunately, am not a friendly face to the confused masses. Still dealing with a bit of a smear campaign,” Sanjay huffed, and once again his eyes settled upon her.

“Vaswani, however, loves opera, and has no such issue,” her boss suggested, and she bit the inside of her cheek. Max appraised her.

“Very well. If you’re inclined, I’d love to have you join us, Satya. Besides, I’d very much like to make it up to you after the... incident at my home. What say you?”. Her pocket buzzed again, and she didn’t even have to look to know that it was another message from Sanjay. _“Accept the offer,” I'm sure._

“I wouldn't go so far as to say that I love opera, but I appreciate your kind offer. I will join you,” she said, trying to keep her voice from wavering. Max said he’d send them all details of when and where in the city Don Giovanni would take place. The meeting wound down and disbanded, and Moira lingered behind with her. When the room held only the two of them, the doctor nervously slicked a few loose hairs back from her widow’s peak.

“Vaswani, I... ah, I wish to apologize. I know we had tentative plans for dinner back in Oasis. I swear I haven’t forgotten. I just grew rather enthralled by my work. You understand, don't you?” Moira said, and Sym heard a tremor of something almost timid-like in her words. Moira was... flustered? It reminded her of her cheery laugh and blushing cheeks back in Paris, and once again the imposing figure of her was humbled and humanized. 

“I understand,” she reassured. Moira hastily checked her own phone that she’d been clutching and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Ah! And that is my lab assistant. Seems I am needed post-haste... Listen... Why don’t we plan to grab a bite together either before or after Don Giovanni on Sunday?”. _Yes! Let’s add dating anxieties on top of everything!_  But Moira’s hopeful face began to sway her heart. Perhaps those odd feelings she’d had about her would dissipate at dinner. They could learn a little more about each other, and she’d finally get a proper read of the woman who gazed at her so sweetly. She forced the worries of Rio aside for the moment. She would deal with that when she got back to her room.  _Who knows? Perhaps it will be a distracting pleasantry?_

“Yes, Moira. I would like that,” she answered. Moira’s smile settled to something different, and though it was surely unintentional, a sultry spark glittered in her red and blue eyes. The doctor’s phone chirped with another message, which caused her to groan and exit with a hasty “see you Sunday”.

Sym walked back to the lab, her heels clicking on the tiled floors, echoing around her. _But, Rio... why did it have to be Rio?_ The city wasn’t very far from their own hidden base, but she still didn’t want to get too much closer to it than was necessary. _Enough time has passed, hasn’t it? The city center was built. The people have what they need, don’t they? The ends justified the means, right?_ She clicked the switch for her and Junkrat’s lab. The door opened up, only for her to find it empty of Junkrat. The Doomfist gauntlet sat partially dismantled with a pile of broken and useless pieces in front of the schematics.

Symmetra distracted herself from her Rio worries by looking over Junkrat’s progress. He’d gotten as far as removing what needed replacing, and he had a glowing screen floating off to the side with a to-do list crudely scrawled out with a stylus. She chuckled at the little doodles and sketches in the margins. At her own computer, another message board hovered, and she could see more of his very unique handwriting.

**Hey mate!**   
**Needed to help Hog with something. Won't be back for the day. Got a few parts that are proper fucked. Think you can help me out and make some more for me?**   
**Thanks!- JR**

**PS Wondering if you could show me more light tricks. Want to give it a go for myself, if you think I can.**

The note made her smile and inflated her ego just a touch. Finally, someone else in her life was beginning to understand the wonders of hardlight. She doubted he had the focus and concentration for anything complex, but he also tended to surprise her with his unexpected talents. If he genuinely wanted to learn, perhaps she could request a lens glove for him to practice with. She decided she’d ask Sanjay later.

She looked over the pieces he needed her to recreate, and they were simple enough. Within minutes, she had perfect solid copies waiting on the table. Sym debated if she should scrounge up extra work, or just leave early for the day as her workmate had. She glanced back over to the ratty tarp that covered the parts for the Mayhem Mobile. Out of boredom and curiosity, she pulled the fabric aside to look at them once more. A quick inspection showed that he was still in the middle of cleaning off all of the dirt and grease with an equally dirty rag. Sym tsked at the grime, fetched a new rag, and rolled her own chair over. Hunched over the table, she proceeded to help him out and began cleaning a piece of piping. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a connection chapter/set-up for the upcoming scenes. I'm such a tease sometime ;)


	14. Ch 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a Night at the Opera, and Sym decides that she is going to enjoy it! Moira proves to be charming and seductive, but are those red flags looming behind her?

Symmetra did one final inspection of herself in the mirror. Her long hair was pulled back with a white satin headband, all tidy and perfect. Her official purple and white Vishkar uniform (which she hadn't worn in quite some time) had nary a wrinkle. She'd even went so far as to give her gauntlet a detailed polishing the night before, though that was done more for herself than anything else. When she passed her own personal inspection, she gave her reflection a quick nod of approval. She went and sat at her small desk, clasping her hands together, and waited to collect herself.

"Aries?".

"Yes, Agent Vaswani?" came the crisp computerized voice of Talon's AI personal assistant.

"Open a video chat window and call Sanjay Korpal," she instructed.

"Calling Sanjay Korpal," Aries replied, and a screen projected in front of her with Talon's logo and a message saying that the call was connecting. She waited for her superior to answer and drummed her fingers on her desk nervously. Her request would be no easy thing to ask upon such short notice.

_Why Rio?_ The only reason she’d agreed to the position at Talon in the first place was to get her out of that wretched city. Whenever she thought of it, a knot in her stomach would form. Her shoulders would tense from guilt, and she hated that feeling. It meant she’d been wrong. She had failed, and she hated failure more than anything else. It still haunted her almost a year later; the explosions, the screams, the little girl’s burned face. And then Sanjay had given her blessed relief. He said she’d no longer have to be there. The rest of Vishkar could handle the protesters and riffraff. She could work for Talon, and if things went well, that would mean a speedier process towards Vishkar’s end goal. Akande and the rest of the board wouldn’t necessarily understand it, but Sanjay did. Advancement comes from order, not chaos, and he’d made the offer stating that she would be the one to bring order to Talon and beyond.

“Vaswani! An odd hour to be calling,” Sanjay greeted. He had a robe covering his satin pajamas, clearly ready to settle in for the night.

“Not on my end, but apologies all the same. I won’t have an opportunity to call tonight. Hence the odd hour,” she explained.

“Ah yes! The opera! Thank you for stepping in for me. I hate missing an opportunity to help unify our business interests, but I’m a bit busy these days,” Sanjay said, and she bit the inside of her cheek. _You would say that, wouldn’t you?_

“Sanjay... I can’t go tonight,” she stated, never breaking eye contact. A muscle flexed in Sanjay’s jaw, and his smile instantly vanished.

“You’d better have a very good reason, and I can see that you don’t look remotely ill, so don’t attempt it,”. Sanjay was only of average height and weight. He had no bulky muscles and was not the sort of person who could competently handle a firearm. And yet, there she was still feeling intimidated in her own space. _I cannot I allow this. I knew in advance that this is how he would react._

“Sanjay... I can not go to Rio. It is too much to ask of me right now and-,”.

“Oh for the love of... Are you still going on about that? Come now, Satya. Didn’t you see a therapist for that already?”. Her face went stony from his interruption.

"Yes, and she said to take as much time as I needed to process the grief and trauma,". Sanjay rolled his eyes with a pompous huff.

"And you can keep processing it when you get back from tonight,". There wasn't an ounce of sympathy in his voice, and she wasn't the least bit surprised.

"Sir, you are being exceptionally unkind. This is not a work-related event and I don't understand why you are so insistent upon my attendance,". Sanjay's eyebrows darted upward, surprised by the sudden emergence of her backbone. Hers had seemingly hidden itself from him for the past few months by her unquestioning compliance. Sanjay sighed, looking down at his feet that remained off camera. His face had fallen to something sad and wounded.

"I am sorry, Vaswani. Things have grown a touch out of hand in Rio, and I've been reluctant to report it to head office. Vishkar still needs to keep its presence here visible. The city and its inhabitants need to know that we are something they can trust. We are nothing to be afraid of... but I wasn't lying about the smear campaign. Well, it's more than that, actually. Lately, the protesters have taken to surrounding my penthouse at all hours of the night when I'm there! And now they're even burning me in effigy! I can’t go anywhere without either a bodyguard or police officer escorting me. I have no privacy in the city. I just need a break from all that," he admitted. Satya let out a little gasp, covering her mouth in shock. Protesting with picket signs was one thing, but symbols of death and violence outside his own residence? And she could certainly understand needing a break from that.

"Sir...I'm sorry! I had no idea! I...".

"It's alright... You'd think all the time they waste protesting could be utilized to find jobs and better themselves, but no. They'd rather lay blame on me as though I personally was the one who set fire to the favelas! It was never supposed to go beyond Calado's building, but we have more than made up for that, no? We've even started building them housing that's far superior to the slums they're currently living in, but still, they object!". Sanjay’s rudeness from a few moments ago combined with the revelation now painted a clearer picture. He was mentally exhausted and afraid, and that explained his lashing out.

“Head office does want our presence at this event, and the people never grew fixated upon you as they have me. You’ve always represented Vishkar well, and I believe Max has grown rather impressed with your skill set. By all means, you were the most logical choice for the spot,” Sanjay added. Her eyes diverted away as she thought things through. It was true that the citizens of Rio hadn’t taken notice of her quite like her superior. To them, she was just a drone working behind the scenes. He was the one they screamed about in the streets, and with her not being in uniform, no one would even know who she worked for altogether. She had no want to be there and return to those terrible thoughts and memories, but perhaps it would be a test to see how far she’d come in the healing process.

“I am sorry to have troubled you, sir. You are correct. I am the most logical choice,” she agreed, and Sanjay looked appeased and gave her a nod. _But it still isn’t fair..._ She held her chin firm.

“I will go, though in exchange for something,” she stated. He hadn’t been prepared for those words, but his surprise quickly changed to curiosity.

“And what is this ‘something’?” he asked.

“I’ve found a person here at Talon that exhibits possible hardlight capabilities. I want a lens glove for him,”.

“Really? Who is it, I wonder? Anyone I would know?”. Sym bit the side of her cheek again. Sanjay would most definitely say no if she said exactly who it was.

“Just one of the engineers here. He asked me to replicate a part for him, and when he reached for it, he actually made a successful pull,” she informed, fibbing only as much as she was comfortable with. Her boss was impressed by her words, but not impressed enough.

“He’s too old to be put through schooling. There’d be no point to it. And Vishkar will not accept anyone who hasn’t come from the Academy. It will be a waste of your time to train this person,” Sanjay shrugged. At this, she nonchalantly shrugged back, bluffing to make her request seem inconsequential.

“It is just to satisfy both our curiosities, Sanjay. I would keep the lessons to a very basic skill level. I think he’d excel more utilizing it for artistic expression and not practical applications. That is all,”. He was mulling it over in his own head, so at least she stood a chance at him saying yes.

“Hmmm... Since I am asking a bit of you, I suppose I’ll allow it. You may teach this person, but under one condition,” he answered, letting the pause stretch for dramatic effect, “Nothing practical. Basic visuals, simple dimensional constructs. No complex mechanics. The lens must also remain with you at all times outside of your lessons,”. She nodded her agreement, ending their conversation. She still had to go to the opera, but at least she got a little something out of the failed request.

**.             .             .             .             .**

“Rio is nearly an hour’s drive from here. Who will be behind the wheel?” Symmetra asked.

“We'll take my car,” Amelie offered, sashaying along in a strappy blood-red gown. The well-dressed trio had met up as planned outside of the hanger, where they would ride out to meet with Max for the show. After that would be an after party that they’d attend before driving back to headquarters. It was going to be a very late night, and while she had no objection to being a designated driver upon request, she'd much rather enjoy a few drinks.

"You're looking lovely, Satya," Moira quietly commented as she caught up to them with her long stride. The comment was not surprising. She always knew how to dress for an event. She'd chosen a steel-gray dress that ended just below the knee, and had it expertly tailored to accentuate every curve of her.

"Thank you, and I return the sentiment to you as well,". The doctor had chosen to wear a dress, much to her surprise. It was a simple sapphire blue sleeveless number, but damn did she wear it well! Little silver clasps adorned the neckline, bringing the front and back straps together; the positioning of which put her freckled shoulders and collar bones on display. Sym felt her cheeks already starting to flush as the want to kiss those little freckles bubbled up out of nowhere.

"It's been a while since anyone has referred to me as lovely, and, being a compliment from you, I think I rather enjoy it,". Moira slung the delicate chain of her purse over her shoulder and followed behind Amelie. The secondary hangar held all sorts of unique vehicles; personal automobiles and rides of random Talon soldiers and employees. She quickly located her own pair of watercraft, still sitting on their trailer-bed collecting dust. Sombra's motorcycle was impossible to miss. It was a garish purple and sported graffiti-style art all over it. And then there was the "Mayhem Mobile".

It was impossible to miss the gigantic ride. The motorcycle portion was easily double the size of anything else she'd ever seen (obviously to accommodate Roadhog's mountainous build), and the seat was tilted back at a relaxed sort of angle. The whole rig was painted a grotesque shade of yellow and studded in spikes. The sidecar belonged to Junkrat, and that was blatantly obvious to tell because the front of it had a maniacal grin staring back, and more spikes and studs all along the arc of the tire. It was also marred by dents and scorch marks.

"Hideous," Amelie clucked to herself as she passed by it, and came to a stop in front of a sleek and stylish little sporty car.

"A Femme Fatale? Well now, when did you get this pretty thing?" Moira complimented as she opened the back door and ushered Symmetra in. The vehicle was obviously meant to be more of a two-seater as the back seats were uncomfortable and squashed together. Moira slipped around the back and slid into the seat next to her. Amelie sat shotgun.

"A gift from Max," their driver answered. She reached over and brushed her fingers lightly over the center of the steering wheel. The engine fired to life.

"Self-driving, too. Quite the gift," Moira chuckled.

"He likes having someone to dote upon," Amelie replied. Sym wrung her hands together as she started feeling uncomfortable. Amelie never struck her as the sort of woman who would entertain a relationship like that, but in retrospect, it made some level of sense. The sniper typed in their destination on a small computer display, and the vehicle sped out of the open hanger doors.

"Do you enjoy being doted upon, Lacroix?". Rather than answer Moira right away, she stalled by flipping down the visor to inspect herself in the mirror.

"Who wouldn't enjoy it?". Her response was cold, but it still piqued Sym's curiosity. She'd read in the provided files from head office that after the death of her husband, Amelie had gone through experimental procedures to slow down her heart rate, but the process also had some unexpected side-effects. Supposedly she could no longer feel or process emotions. _Just how far does that extend, I wonder?_

"Anything else he spoils you with?" Moira grinned. _That seems a tad personal..._ but for the sake of continued curiosity, she still listened in. She'd never met anyone who dated an Omnic before.

"I do not feel, but I still have physical needs,". Amelie suffered no sense of embarrassment, and for that, Symmetra was somewhat jealous. Moira chuckled some more.

"And Max is capable of fulfilling such needs?".

"With his most recent hardware upgrade? Yes,". _I really don't need to hear this..._ The pure awkwardness that filled the car went unnoticed by the other two passengers, and she regretfully carried the burden for them.

"... how many settings?". _Please don’t answer that._

“Seven patterns to choose from, and five different speeds,”. Moira let out a low whistle of appreciation, and Symmetra couldn’t bring herself to look at the woman sitting in front of her. _...mine has more options..._ (If only she hadn’t left the damn thing behind in Utopaea, and if only the company that had made it hadn’t discontinued the model.)

"I remember hearing you say you've never seen Don Giovani. What operas HAVE you seen, Moira?" Sym asked, scrambling to find a way to change the damn subject. She didn’t mind occasionally touching upon those sorts of conversations with friends, but she was technically on a date and letting her mind drift to those sorts of things could possibly lead her to make decisions she’d later regret. The doctor's attention turned back to her, and she listed off a few over the years that she'd managed to attend either by herself or with her late grandmother.

The drive continued to be a pleasant one... until they entered Rio’s city limits. Her chest started to tighten as the images outside the car slowly became familiar ones. _This was a mistake..._ It was too late to back out. She had other people she was in attendance with. Turning around now would be too much to ask from them, and she’d rather not explain herself to them. Feeling trapped, she clamped the edge of her seat anxiously out of sight from her escort. She repeated to herself that she wasn’t in uniform. No one would recognize her. _But my arm though._

Her gauntlet had become a part of her quite some time ago. Where other Vishkar architechs chose to stick with a removable lens glove, she’d volunteered to have her arm removed entirely for the experimental prosthesis. It was as much a part of her body as any of her other limbs, and she often forgot how noticeable it could be to those unfamiliar with her. _But I will only be outside long enough to go from the car to the opera house. There won't be any protesters even near that building._

Amelie’s car slowed down as it wove through the streets of the sprawling city. The areas not blessed by Vishkar were dingy and hideous. Children in torn clothes ran through cluttered alleys while kicking a worn down football. _The smiles on their faces... It is as if they are unaware that they suffer such a wretched life..._ And suddenly she was taken back to Hyderabad where there was nothing more she cared to do than draw beautiful patterns in the dirt that the other children used as a make-shift cricket pitch.

“You’ll change their lives, you know. Vishkar will, I mean. It’ll happen, eventually. The people will realize how much you want to help. They’ll let you. They just need to learn not to cling to old things,” Moira murmured. Sym looked back at her companion, pondering her poignant statement. She straightened her shoulders and smoothed her skirt over her lap.

“We continue to usher in progress for many cities. It is always just a matter of time. This city just happens to be a touch more stubborn,” she agreed.

“I hear protests have grown violent... Don’t worry about it tonight, though. I took some safety precautions,” Moira assured, patting her purse. Sym swallowed, and looked straight ahead, not wanting to think of what kind of weapon was hidden away in Moira's silver and pearl beaded bag.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,”.

The slums slowly transitioned to construction zones as more and more buildings sported scaffolding and heavy equipment. The closer they drew to the heart of the city, the more Vishkar’s signature style took over. It all led to the new city center; the focal point of the metropolis. _It has been a struggle, but it seems our roots are finally able to spread._ She always liked thinking of it as a lotus blossom growing from the muck.

Amelie’s car rolled all the way up to the valet station, where it stopped and opened the doors for them. She touched the control panel, selecting the manual steering setting. The driver took her keys, hopped in, and drove the Femme Fatale to their secure lot. They approached the will-call station, and upon mentioning Max’s name, the ushers inside snapped to attention.

“Right this way, ladies. He’s waiting in his private box,” the usher informed, and escorted them up the crowded marble stairway towards a curtain marked with the number thirteen. The heavy red velvet was pulled to the side, and there sat Max, lounging on a plush sofa. He hopped to attention, standing up to properly welcome his guests; a peck on the back of her hand again (which felt a little less awkward than the first time), a handshake with Moira, and a kiss on Amelie’s cheek that lingered an extra second.

"Ladies! Good to see you. Even better to not have to sit alone," Max greeted as they all took their seats.

"I took the liberty of ordering a few refreshments to tide you over until the afterparty, too," he informed, and as if on command, a few of the staff pushed past the curtains with a couple trays of finger foods and bottles of wine. With glasses filled, the staff backed out, and the bells began to sound to alert all in attendance that the show was about to begin.

On a whole, Symmetra enjoyed opera. It was classical, and the voices belting out the lyrics were pleasing to her ears. The costuming and sets were heavily detailed, which aided in the immersion of the story, and there was something to be said about viewing a performance from a comfortably curved sofa.

She had sat at attention for most of the first scene and eventually eased back against the cushions. She was finally feeling at ease and the anxieties that had plagued her on the drive in finally dissipated. Moira shifted a little closer and reached into her purse. She pulled out a pair of opera glasses and held them out to her with a nudge. She carefully took them with a quiet “thank you” and examined them. They were most definitely antique. The lenses were thick curved glass, and the inlay along the handle and eyepieces shimmered. She recognized the iridescent texture anywhere; abalone.

“Crude technology, I know, but I figured you might enjoy something that fits the experience,”. Sym unfolded the gold and shell handle and held them up to her eyes. She could see the people on stage slightly better, though the curved glass distorted their shapes, as though viewing them under water.

The performance came to a pause for intermission, and the lights brightened back up. She folded the glasses back up, and Moira handed her their protective case. The mahogany wood box looked to be antique as well, but there was a brass plate attached with a newer-looking engraving. She took the opportunity to read the message inscribed.

**To my granddaughter, who always saw the world through a different lens. Know that you are always loved.**   
**-Gran**

"Oh... this is...".

"A gift," Moira answered for her, "My grandmother and I were always close,". It was a touching little story, but she wouldn't deny the envy inside her. _I have no such heirlooms or keepsakes from my family... I've never even met my grandparents._

"I appreciate you lending something so special to me. Here. You can have it back for the second act," Sym said as she tucked it into its case.

"Excuse me," Amelie quietly stated, standing up to leave the box, "If it is anything like my dancing days, then the intermissions will be notoriously short,". She left for the restroom, and Symmetra decided to follow her.

Having VIP seats meant having access to private restrooms, and she was thankful for it. There were no lines to wait in, no suffocating crowds, and no disorienting chatter to overwhelm her. It was just her and Lacroix; a woman she hardly knew or spoke to outside of missions. Amelie glanced at herself in the mirror and frowned at a few loose strands of dark hair that had come untucked from her bejeweled barrette. She unclasped it and shook the rest of her hair out for a moment before starting to comb it back all over again. Sym pulled her compact out of her purse just to give herself something to do until the room was clear and she could use the toilet in complete privacy. What she didn't expect was a conversation.

"Are you enjoying the performance?".

"Hm? Oh! Yes. It's a classic retelling. I much prefer that over productions that like to take artistic liberties. Max's box is well-situated for viewing, too,". She took the pad from the compact and dabbed powder on any part of her face that looked remotely shiny.

"It reminds me of my ballet days," Amelie stated, and twisted her hair back the way it was before.

"Yes, I remember from your dossier. Principal dancer for the Parisian Ballet?". Her companion nodded.

"A lifetime ago,".

"Have you and Moira fucked yet?". Sym's silver compact practically leaped out of her hands in surprise and clattered to the black tiled floor. She carefully crouched down to pick it back up while Amelie just waited for her to answer.

"That's a rather personal question, don't you think?" she snipped, tucking the compact back into her purse.

"It is," she admitted. Symmetra turned and hid herself away in the toilet stall while she tried to think of a way to respond. Perhaps if she just remained silent, Amelie would leave, but the longer the silence stretched between them, the more she realized that that wouldn't happen. She stared at the slatted dark wood door of the stall in resentment.

"It is not your place to ask these sorts of questions, and I am not obligated to answer you," Sym reminded and figured that if she was going to make her seclusion more convincing, then she might as well utilize the porcelain toilet beneath her. She could make out the woman's silhouette through the tilted slats, and she was still fixing up her makeup at the sink.

"Perhaps not. I am simply going to give you a word of caution," Amelie started. She clicked what sounded like a tube of lipstick shut and slipped it into her own clutch, "Moira is a selfish and self-centered person. She is also determined, and she always gets her way in the end... One way or another,". Sym's lips drew up into a thin line, and her stomach knotted in equal parts of frustration and anxiety. The staccato of Amelie's high-heels echoed through the private restroom. The door creaked as it swung open and closed, and then Symmetra was left to herself and Lacroix's unsettling and cryptic warning.

Was Lacroix right? She'd made Moira sound so unlikable, and it was true that there were parts of her personality that could be difficult to contend with. Perhaps it was an exaggeration. Moira couldn't possibly be as manipulative as Amelie made her out to be. Afterall, she had everything Symmetra wanted in a partner... but she hated the red flags that kept trying to pop up. She huffed in determination and willfully buried them. _Amelie is just jealous and doesn't realize it..._

When she came back to her seat, the ushers had just started to ring their bells again; five minutes until the second act began. Max was lounging back against the sofa; his arm lazily draped around Lacroix's shoulders. He was chatting away with the doctor, who also leaned back and rested her arm along the back of the cushioning.

"Vaswani! Just in time for the curtain again!" Max remarked. His companion under his arm stared ahead as if the conversation in the lavatory had never happened. She was too busy eyeing the attendees below.

"I told you, Max. She's impeccable in everything she does, and that includes timing," Moira said with a smile and patted the spot next to her where she'd sat before. Moira moved her arm once again to the back of the sofa, and Sym reclaimed her spot. She grabbed one of the programs off the table in front of them and flicked through the pages just so she'd have something occupying her hands.

"I refuse to suffer from a lack of punctuality," she replied. The group refilled their glasses and settled in for the second act. As the lights dimmed, she could feel Moira’s arm shift lower and circle around her shoulders. She didn’t try to shrug away from the embrace. It felt too good experiencing someone’s touch. It had been so long since the last time. _Moira always gets her way? If this is her way... then what’s so wrong with it?_

She hardly paid attention to the performance after that. Not a word had been spoken between them, but a conversation of a different nature was being had. Moira’s thumb ran a path up and down her upper arm, and the excitement from it caused a tingling sensation to follow behind. _Maybe... maybe it’s alright to stop fighting this... She’s brilliant... clever... beautiful... tenacious... powerful... doesn’t she embody everything I want?_

Her gaze fell upon the hand slowly caressing her. The veins were dark and prominent. _No... they’re not quite veins._ It was hard to make out all the details in the darkened theater, and she wondered if they’d always been that way. Had she always been too focused upon Moira’s face and physique to notice the marred hand? She recalled seeing faint markings in the past, but never anything warranting attention or concern. This, however, was different, and she wondered if it had anything to do with her research into the dark matter.

As the opera progressed she began to grow less interested in it. Moira’s eyes met hers for a few seconds, and the music just felt distracting. Her heart raced, but the soprano notes intruded upon the moment. A pleasant warmth engulfed her, and she willed herself to ignore the other couple sitting next to them. Moira smiled, and all those intrusive sounds and thoughts melted away. _I think I might actually want this._

Before she knew it, the cast was bowing to polite claps, the orchestra received their own accolades, and the opulent red velvet curtains drew to a close with a ripple of fabric. The lights brightened back up, and the theater buzzed with chatter as everyone rose from their seats to leave. Max stood up and offered a hand to his date. Moira followed suit, and Sym took it. Her decision allowed her a better look at the possible injuries that she spied earlier. It was a mix of both veins and scars, discolored to an unnatural shade of purple, but if they caused her pain, then she masked it well.

Their host led them down a winding path, following the signs that read “VIP lounge”, and he came to a stop in front of a set of wood French doors obscured with beaded black curtains. A doorman took one look at them and opened it up, ushering them in. The guard’s gaze lingered upon her a touch longer than she would have liked, and as his eyes locked on her gauntlet, she knew that he recognized her technology. She grimaced and hoped that would be the only confrontation she would face.

A cocktail hour was just getting underway, and she was suddenly brought back to Paris. Even the architecture of the lounge and small ballroom reminded her of Max’s chateau. The party was not off to a great start for her. She balled her hands up into fists, determined. _No! This will be different. I will make this my reality. I will enjoy myself. Nothing of consequence will happen..._ And Moira began laughing at some sort of joke Max had recited that she’d somehow tuned out altogether. The woman's cheeks were once again rosie. Her laughter was rich, and died down to a somewhat sweet chuckle. _Oh, right. Well, THIS may be something of consequence..._

“And what did you think of tonight’s performance, Miss Vaswani?” she heard Max ask.

“Hm? Oh, it was lovely. Better than the production I saw in London,” she remarked. Max tweaked his tie a touch and spied the buffet table and bar officially opening up.

“Refreshments seem to be available,” he noted. Amelie detached from the Omnic’s arm and stepped away as though it were a coded command (and in fact, she was fairly certain that it was). Oblivious, Moira politely offered to get her a drink and a small plate, and she accepted, leaving just her and the robot behind to find their own entertainment. _Another awkward silence..._

“I’m glad it was you who accepted the ticket, and not Korpal. I thought it’d be a nice way to make up for the... incident,” he started, “but obligation dictates that I offer such things to him first, of course,”. She nodded along, understanding the protocol for things like that.

“I appreciate your generosity, but you needn’t worry. I bare you no animosity. What happened then was not your fault,”.

“Many would say it was a punishment for some of the company I keep... I am surprised though that you did come, given your thoughts upon what happened here in Rio,”. Symmetra stiffened up and her lips drew taut.

“I don’t mean to offend. When Sanjay nominated you for a position with Talon, Sombra had made mention of your sabbatical. I figured you wouldn’t agree to work with a group of our nature,” he explained, “But of course, afterward, he privately mentioned of your work in Dorado. You clean things up rather well. You covered my tracks completely, and Sombra didn’t even figure out my connection with Vishkar and Portero,”.

“I like to think of myself as someone who’s meant to put things in their proper order. That is all there is to it,” Sym acknowledged. Max chuckled and a metallic ring clung to it.

“You know? Sometimes I don’t think Vishkar deserves you,”. Perhaps he’d meant it to be a compliment, but the words stung a little. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress, and she tried not grip it too tightly.

“Had you experienced what I have, you may think otherwise,” she muttered back. Max was impossible to read, both literally and figuratively. He slid his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.

“Moira said she’d nominate you for a ministry seat, didn’t she?”. Did she dare validate the claim? The way he spoke of it made her think that it was just common knowledge, though she supposed it was because he and the doctor were friends.

“Yes. It is a generous offer as well, and a position and title I’ve always dreamed about. I am pleased that I’ve made such positive impressions with you two, to warrant-,”.

“The position is shit. Don’t take it,” he cut in. Sym snapped her mouth closed for a second as her eyes darted towards his.

“She hates it. She says it’s miserable. All bureaucratic red tape to fight through. Appearances to upkeep. She still can’t do the research she wants. She might as well be working with Overwatch again... The Ministry of Physics fought everyone tooth and nail to prevent any study of dark matter beyond their own,” he added. The room was starting to grow packed. She spied Moira and Amelie starting to weave back towards them with plates and drinks in hand.

“If she hates it so much, then why does she stay? And why would she invite me?” she wondered. Max shrugged, his eyes fixating back upon Amelie.

“She waited too long to quit. What with the stolen sample still being looked into, if she left now, it’d be suspicious. No one has ever left the ministry before retirement. And, my guess is she’d rather not let go of such a prestigious title, much as she hates what it all entails. My other guess is that’s partly why she offered the position to you. If she can’t leave, then she’d at least like to have people she trusts and approves of sitting beside her,”. In all, Max’s friendship with Moira was starting to look considerably deeper. He cared for her in his own way, and he wanted his friend to have more people she could confide in.

“They only had a small menu of drinks to choose from. I hope you like the ‘Donna Anna’. It looked good on the menu,” Moira announced, holding out some sort of milky pink drink in a tulip glass. An edible orchid blossom garnished the rim, and the beverage looked almost too pretty to enjoy. _It looks like liquefied rose quartz._

“Ah! I see the cast filing in. I wouldn’t mind thanking them for the evening’s show,” Max announced, and gently led Amelie away from them. They slipped through the crowd, leaving Symmetra and Moira conveniently alone. _Ah! I see. Max is playing “Wingman” tonight. They truly are good friends._

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I think if we want to stand a chance at getting a seat for the evening, now would be the time to make our move!” Moira suggested with a playful smile. Vacant tables lined the dimly-lit edges of the room, each of which sported a little lamp. Her companion selected the table near the darkest corner, and Symmetra was keenly aware that there was only room for two.  _Max and Lacroix will have to find a table of their own, I guess._

“That’s better,” Moira said with a sigh as she sat her drink and plate on the table and eased down into her seat. She tipped her own beverage back for a sip. It was a dark red and smelled on the strong side.

“Are you feeling unwell?” she asked at the sound of Moira's pained sigh.

“Oh goodness, no. It’s just, despite taking a day to rest, I’m still feeling rather run-down. Lab work is draining, but addicting,” she explained and took yet another sip from her glass, “I suppose I’ll have to take a proper holiday when I reach a good stopping point in my research. Hard to tear myself away from it, though,”.

“I am familiar with the sensation. I grow rather fixated upon my own projects. I prefer to see all things to completion. If I am the one to design it, then it is mine to see it through to the ribbon cutting. Most of my colleagues stop once construction begins, and some cease caring as soon as they’re assured their designs were selected. Sloppy,” she said, trying to relate. The light from their table lamp slowly transitioned color from a bright white to a cool blue.

“Ah! Satya Vaswani: Ever determined to make the world a better place,”. Moira was at ease, and so was she. Maybe all those red flags from before were just false readings. The doctor clicked at the bottom of a lamp, and a holographic menu popped up. She requested a few items to be brought to their table, and a few minutes later, a server bot complied. After starting their meal, Symmetra decided to return to their previous conversation.

“I know you said you’re tired from your workload, but I’m still curious. What sort of things have you learned? I remember you saying at the briefing that you can rewrite DNA. Is that true?”. Her date was practically beaming with pride.

“Yes. And I mean it in the most literal way... I started splicing genetic sequences in a snap! I can’t wait for you to come to the lab! I’ve experimented with bioluminescence!” she exclaimed.

“Bioluminescence?!”. The doctor's heterochromatic eyes locked with hers, and she leaned forward, bracing herself with her elbows. She rested her chin on the palm of her hand.

“You could say I was a little... inspired,”. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she took a sip from her nearly-drained “Donna Anna”.

“I’ve managed to make a hoard of glowing mice and rabbits. What I’ve discovered, well... It makes nanobiotics look like child’s play! Those can mend a freshly broken body, but this can mend everything,”.

“Everything?”.

“Yes. With research like this, we can bring everything to order,” Moira started. _I like the sound of that!_ In the end, Sanjay had been right. Talon was misunderstood. Akande may have been a fan of conflict and violence, but Doctor O’Deorain had the right idea, and it would be her keen analytical mind that would help Vishkar attain its end-goal, not Talon’s militia.

“Think of it. All the auto-immune disorders. All the traumatic injuries and genetic mutations that can be undone. All the neurodivergencies that hold humanity back,”. And then the red flag she’d forcefully buried earlier that night popped back up. She wanted to say something, but what? Words were lost to her at that moment. Moira probably meant well, but few people understood the gifts fate bestowed upon her. To them (and her date as well, it seemed) those gifts looked like burdens.

“Akande is right. Humanity is stagnated. It is time for us to evolve, but we keep fighting it... You’ve mentioned fate before. Maybe the Omnic crisis was a message from fate. It’s about time for us to take the next step,” she continued. Symmetra decided it was time to get off the subject altogether.

“I appreciate you lending me your opera glasses earlier. They were lovely, albeit outdated,” she tried. Moira’s look of determination softened to one of nostalgia.

“They were a gift, of course. My grandmother was elated when she heard that I was accepted into Cambridge... She wanted me to go to Trinity College, which was where she taught history, but she knew Cambridge was the better choice for my area of interest,”.

“I am a little envious. I never met my grandparents. They’d all passed during the Omnic Crisis,”.

“I certainly didn’t intend to dredge up painful memories,” Moira quickly tried to soothe. Symmetra shrugged.

“The only pain to feel I suppose is the absence of any possible memories to hold. My past is not as tragic as it sounds... I’ve always thought of Vishkar as my family. My mother passed shortly after I started there. The academic board took pity on me. They let me live on campus year-round. They saw to all of my needs and even a few of my wants. I made friends, learned, and grew. Isn’t that a family’s purpose?” she truthfully answered.

“That still doesn’t mean you OWE them, though. Trust me from experience. I would know,” she said, and drained the rest of her second cocktail, “I knew a man from my Overwatch days. He’d been some rich playboy. Lived a life of luxury... until his brother tried to kill him,”. Sym was immediately hooked on her story.

“See, he was part of a crime syndicate. Yakuza family business, if you will. The family didn’t approve of his irresponsibility and tried bringing him back to the fold many times. When he refused, well, they put big brother in charge to deal with him. Overwatch was hot on their trail, trying to bring the syndicate down. That’s when we found the poor thing all beaten and bloodied; left to die.

"My partner and I worked night and day, trying to keep him alive. She had such a big heart. She refused to let him die, and it led us to the breakthrough of the century. We saved him... This part may sound ludicrous, but because we ended up having to replace much of his body with robotic limbs and organs, we essentially made the first cyborg,”. Well, now Symmetra was even more hooked! If there was anyone who might possibly be capable of making such a breakthrough, it would be Moira O’Deorain.

“But, I’ve never heard of such a discovery! Surely, if you created a-,”.

“We couldn’t let anyone know,” Moira interrupted, “That was the turning point for me. You see, I was elated. I wanted to go to the press, and let the world know of our success! But Overwatch wouldn’t let us. They said our whole process and achievement was unethical. We were supposed to keep him alive, not, as they put it, experiment upon him like Frankenstein’s monster. My partner had a change of heart, too. She sided with them. She said what we did, in the end, was wrong. But that? That wasn’t even the half of it.

"The poor man we were told to save was put to work to justify all the money we’d spent to revive him. He was put on Overwatch’s covert ops team, and so was I... They put him in danger many times. They told me to keep up with my experiments behind the scenes, all while publicly shunning my research... So that’s what I mean, Satya. Just because someone saves your life doesn’t mean they have noble intentions. Sometimes people just want a reason to keep you in their pocket. People like that love to prey upon people like you; the altruistic and naive”. Another flag rose back up. _I am not naive!_  With her story over, Moira exhaled a long sigh and reached back to the purse hanging from the side of her chair.

“I hate to interrupt the evening, but I haven’t had a cigarette all day. I know you don’t smoke, but perhaps you’d like to join me for more conversation? I like to think that is where I’m my most charming,” she grinned, perhaps oblivious to the fact that the reciting of her story had been a bit too heavy of a topic for “date chatter”, and even more oblivious to the fact that she'd insulted her. Symmetra internally grimaced. No, she didn’t want to be surrounded by cigarette smoke, but neither did she want to sit there left with negative thoughts while her date sucked down a quick drag in the alley behind the opera house. She agreed to join her and followed behind her as they wound through more halls until they found a service elevator that took them to the back doors. The heavy door snapped shut behind them, locking back up. They’d have to loop around back to the front afterward, but it was no matter. As they rounded the corner, they came to a stop. They were not the only ones smoking and conversing in the alley.

“Sweetheart... Won’t you stay with me tonight? I rented the penthouse just for you,” the man murmured. Only, it wasn’t a man. It was Max, and the woman he spoke to was, of course, Lacroix. Sym and Moira backed up, giving their companions some privacy, but not so far as to not be able to hear the goings on. Her date wiggled her eyebrows playfully and peeked back around the corner. _I shouldn’t snoop, buuuuuuut, if she’s going to..._ Amelie had apparently come out for a cigarette as well, as she blew her smoke at the Omnic’s face. Incapable of being bothered by it, he didn’t flinch in the slightest.

“Would if I could, cherie but I am the driver for the three of us this evening,” she reminded. Max scoffed at the notion.

“It’s a self-driving car, and they know the way back to base,” he pointed out.

“I refuse to leave my car in the hands of someone else,” she snipped. Max gave a begrudging sigh.

“What is the point of getting this upgrade if we’re never going to use it?” he muttered and buried his hands back in his pockets. Amelie took another draw off her cigarette.

“You speak as though you can feel anything,” she said, her words cold.

“I can, actually,” Max countered, ignoring how heartless her statement sounded. He reached out, unclipping her barrette, and her hair spilled out around her, “The installation includes an update to my OS. I’m wired up to feel certain physical sensations like a human now, so let’s just say I am as eager as you are to test it out,”. He stroked her tresses longingly. Sym wasn’t sure if she should cover her eyes, her ears, or somehow both simultaneously, because Amelie caved in, agreed that she would stay the evening, and started to kiss him. _Oh... Oh that is a strange thing to witness._ Moira gave her a nudge, regaining her attention. She motioned for her to follow her lead, and knocked the metal back door loud enough to grab the lovers’ attention.

“Thanks again for coming out with me to smoke. I hate being the loner in the alley,” her date stated, convincingly.

“Of course,” she replied, playing along. Sure enough, as they came around the corner again, Amelie was alone, and Max had just slipped away towards the main entrance. They gave her a nod in greeting and acted like her hair had always hung loose, and her lipstick was always smudged like that (though Sym could no longer look her in the eyes).

Moira pulled a pack out of her purse and plucked one out. Next came the snap of her lighter. The tip began to glow red, and she flicked it shut. Symmetra watched the trail of smoke wafting her way, and she took a few steps to the side to avoid it. Despite hating the smell, she found the whole image of Moira seductive. She was gazing down the dark alley out to the bright and busy street they’d driven upon. She exhaled through her nose, and the smoke swirled around to frame her face. _Perhaps she is part dragon._ After another puff, she blew out through her mouth, and Symmetra liked that even better. She hardly even noticed the silent Amelie standing behind them.

“YOU! VISHKAR!”. Symmetra jumped at the unfamiliar voice barking down the alley. There wasn’t a picket sign in his hands, nor a shirt sporting a slogan, but the heavy-set middle-aged man in tattered clothes standing in the way blocked their only means of escape. He yelled at her, but without her headset on to translate, she could only pick out snippets of what he was saying. The phrase “blood on your hands!” came out rather clear. She’d learned that expression rather quickly. _“Viskar: Blood on their hands, Money in their pocket.”_

“I don’t know who you are,” Moira growled, and tried stepping between them, “But you’d best turn around,”. Her long scarred hand flicked open her purse, and her fingers probed inside. Lacroix leaned against the wall, unimpressed.

“You go to... Opera! Live the good life!” the man croaked in broken English, “While we are left homeless! Jobless! You bring... suffering and then gave us a promise. But you sold the free housing to the wealthy! No place to go for us in the Favelas!” he gritted while moving closer. Symmetra’s heart lurched from the very sudden revelation. _What?! Sold?! The housing was supposed to be for the citizens of the Favelas!_

“I... I’m so sorry,” she stammered as the news washed over her. _My Gods!_ Her apology fell upon deaf ears, and he lunged forward, grabbing her wrist! Her gauntlet grew bright as she tried to form something single-handedly that would be of use, but nothing would come forth. Instead, she pulled back and balled up her fist, desperately wishing she wouldn’t have to punch the man. Before she could take a swing at him, he howled with pain and a flash of purple behind him started to pulse.

The source of light was Moira. She had a tight grip on the man’s shoulder, and some odd apparatus on her hand. An ominous shadowy cloud began to condense, obscuring her palm. And her face! Dear Gods, her face! Moira was smiling! It was unsettling, sinister, and frightening.

“Moira!” Sym shouted. The man had let go of her wrist and his face still twisted up from the pain.

“MOIRA!” she shouted and leaped behind her. She wrapped her arms around the woman’s narrow waist and tugged her back.

“STOP!” she grunted with one final pull and managed to disconnect her hand from the protester’s shoulder. He collapsed to the ground, and Sym crouched down to examine him.

“Please don’t be dead! Please don’t be dead!” she whispered. She could feel the slightest beat of a pulse against her fingertips, and his breaths grew less and less shallow. He was alive, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Moira grunted and seethed from discomfort; her hand twitching as the dark cloud around it disappeared.

“Are you alright?” she asked with a hiss while shaking sensation back into her fingers. Sym nodded yes and stepped closer, carefully taking Moira’s hand in hers. The scars and veins were much darker and more prominent. The device slipped over her palm reminded her of a hardlight lens, and she discovered that that was the source of the marks upon her hand.

“You could have killed him!” Symmetra rushed. Moira sneered.

“Yes! Because he was going to kill you!”.

“He was unarmed!”. Her date did not look pleased.

“I’m not a chancer sort of person, Satya,” Moira spat, and her head whipped over to Amelie, who took one last puff of her cigarette, “And why the fuck did you just stand there?!”. Amelie dropped the butt and ground it under her heel.

“I knew you had it under control,” she replied with an unconcerned shrug. She stepped over the protester’s unconscious body without thought and left the alley. Moira lit another cigarette and took a couple calming puffs. She grabbed Symmetra’s wrist somewhat forcefully and pulled her along. Her own strides were no match for O’Deorain’s long legs, and she had to trot to keep up with her.

“He’s going to be alright. He’ll wake up of his own accord in a couple hours, no worse for wear,” she assured, though tone alone told her she didn’t really care.

“If I hadn’t stopped you, would you...” Sym began to ask. Moira flicked her cigarette behind her, uncaring of where it landed.

“We both know the answer to that question, so let's not waste time asking it,”.

They rejoined with Max inside the opera house, who was already talking with Amelie in hushed whispers. He signaled the valets outside to hurry with their car, promised to cover their tracks, and saw them off. Amelie had taken manual control of the Femme Fatale, and drove well above the speed limit, expertly weaving through the still-busy streets. Sym, for once, didn’t give a damn about safety. All she wanted was to get past city limits as quickly as possible, not wanting to spend another moment within. She remained silent the rest of the way back to headquarters, and Moira escorted her back to her own door. They lingered out front for what had to be the most unconventional ending to a date that she’d ever had.

“I’m sorry. I overreacted and ruined the evening,” Moira murmured. Sym rifled through her purse to find her keycard.

“You tried to bring an end to a dangerous situation. I shouldn’t have judged you so harshly for it,” Sym replied, hoping to reach compromise. She swiped the key through the lock, and the door opened.

“And thank you, Moira, for protecting me,” she added. _When had I become a perpetual damsel in distress?_

“I’d do it again if I had to... but I’d rather not,” she smirked. Symmetra nodded and slipped into her room.

“Satya!”. She turned to find Moira still standing outside her open door. Suddenly the doctor grew flustered and looked to the floor.

“Apart from the ending... did you enjoy the evening?”.

“Yes,” she lied, “I did. Goodnight, Moira,”. She forced a smile that never reached her eyes, and closed the door.

Symmetra had learned a lot that night. She discovered she hadn’t been mentally ready to return to Rio after all. She would have to start probing around to see if what the man had said about the "free" housing was true. She’d received unsettling warnings and got a good look at the woman whom she thought she had feelings for. _Why can’t I just have an enjoyable evening that doesn’t end in near tragedy or confusion?! I just need... I need a break from this life._ She slipped out of her dress and curled up on her bed. Nothing could be done about any of it until morning, but her mind still buzzed from the unwanted excitement, and she finally took the time to examine all the red flags that had popped up over the course of only a few hours.

_Moira may have many admirable qualities, but one thing has become clear. She is not a person I wish to be with._


	15. Ch 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sym catches wind of a very hush-hush secret mission, and is convinced into tagging along. Later: It's Junkrat's birthday and he's eager to let loose and blow off some steam, but things take a very unexpected turn when Sombra shows up to crash his party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been planning this one for a while, so I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Symmetra wasn’t purposefully hiding from Moira, but she was feeling thankful that her daily routine rarely coincided with hers. That was further proof to her that the doctor wasn’t someone she should be dating. It also bought her time to figure out how to word things to her to let her down gently. She could still be a workmate, she supposed (mostly because she felt she had no other choice). It was her responsibility to maintain close ties with Talon, Vishkar, and Doctor O’Deorain, and she needed to nip her perceived relationship in the bud.

Monday was simple enough. She ate breakfast at a slightly earlier time than usual and slipped into the workroom before the day properly began. The rest of the day had been quiet, save for Junkrat (who was in a chipper mood and kept chattering away). Fortunately, he was passing in and out of the room sporadically as he’d carry tools and motorcycle parts to the secondary hangar, and that kept him occupied for the day. She’d learned very early on that a bored Junkrat could be a considerable test of her patience.

She’d received an email from Vishkar late in the day alerting her that the lens glove that she’d requested had been shipped out, and a courier would be arriving on Wednesday to drop the item off. She scribbled on her tablet a reminder to schedule a lesson-time for the Junker and brought an end to her peaceful Monday. Had she known what was in store for her on Tuesday, she might not have slept so soundly.

Symmetra awoke on Tuesday at her normal time, feeling rejuvenated and confident. She needn’t worry about the drama with Moira. She would apologize to her if she’d led her on in any way, but she could not return the doctor’s affections. Moira was older than her, and no doubt wiser and more understanding than the younger partners she’d shared in the past. Assured she could handle anything life threw at her, she went about her day with almost a spring in her step. To her surprise, Junkrat wasn’t in the workroom. She remembered him mentioning going to a bar on that day. Perhaps that had something to do with his absence? Hell, maybe he’d even taken a “Me Day” (the thought of which made her chuckle).

It was another quiet day to herself, and Gods knew she’d been needing a reprieve from intrusive thoughts and distractions. She was in her element, cranking through the tasks on her to-do-list, and for the first time since joining Talon, she finally felt that maybe she’d carved a nice little niche and rhythm for herself. But the room was starting to borderline on a little too quiet, and she requested Aries to play something light and energizing (but not TOO energizing).

“It is twelve O’Clock, Agent Vaswani. Are you ready for lunch, or would you like me to remind you again at twelve thirty?” Aries asked. Symmetra looked up from a scale model of a posh shopping center that she’d been working on, eyeing the clock on the wall as if the computer was wrong.

“No. Keep my models open. I don’t anticipate being gone for long,” she instructed and left for the cafeteria.

Symmetra found a couple surprises during her lunch break. First, she saw Junkrat already sitting at a table, wearing his Screamin’ Dingos shirt. It looked to be freshly-laundered and wasn’t the wrinkled mess she’d remembered from the day they played chess outside. Him wearing a shirt wasn’t entirely an oddity, but he had also showered, and those two miracles rarely coincided (if ever). Something significant was happening in the life of the Junker, and she wondered for a moment what it could be.

As per Tuesday’s usual ritual, Hog came out of the line of hot cases with the entire chafing dish of dumplings in hand, but things grew downright unbelievable when he opened the lid and popped 3 of them onto Junkrat’s plate!

“Aw, well ain’t that nice? Thanks mate!” he said, his smile beaming.

“Yer welcome,” Roadhog quietly rumbled. _Now, what is... Either it is Junkrat’s last day on Earth, or perhaps it’s... Oh my Gods! Are... are they a couple?! Is it their anniversary?!_ Oh, how could she be so blind?! The two were near-inseparable outside of working hours. They’d been on the road together for many years, and she could see how living a life like that could lead to romantic feelings, and Roadhog never struck her as a someone who’d handle public displays of affection well, so that perhaps explained them being quiet about it. She sat her tray down at a different table, offering them some alone time and a chance for her to reorganize everything she’d thought of them until that point. _Well, at least now I don’t have to worry about these... sensations of mine growing out of control._

“Hey there, Sparkles!”. Sombra was suddenly standing in front of her and Sym let out a little yelp as the woman appeared from nothingness. She clenched her fists, and let out a quick snort of frustration.

“Sparkles?” she asked. Sombra had a little nickname for just about everyone, so she supposed it was only a matter of time before she received a new title. The hacker grinned at her; Talon’s personal Cheshire Cat.

“Seems fitting,” she shrugged, and glanced over her shoulder at Junkrat and Roadhog before taking a seat at her table, “So what did you get Toasty for his birthday?”. Sym was mid-slurp from her glass of water and froze.

“Birthday?!”. _Oh! Oh no! How did I..._ And she started to feel foolish for her mind jumping to conclusions as she eyed the pair. Yes, that was certainly a logical explanation for everything too. Hog would be taking Rat out for a night at the bar to celebrate, and since it was probably the only time of the year it would happen, it explained why the lanky man was so excited for it that he "dressed up".

“I take it nothing, then?” Sombra replied. Sym hid her face behind her glass of water. Talon wasn’t exactly the sort of facility that put things like birthdays on the official calendar, and she never bothered with memorizing them.

“I didn’t realize it was his birthday until you told me,” she sheepishly admitted, “so it’ll have to be belated, I guess,”. Sombra folded her arms and looked her over.

“Guess he didn’t tell you... We can go out after you finish up and find him something in time for the party,” her table mate suggested. Symmetra’s brow furrowed.

“Party?”. It was certainly the first she’d ever heard about that, too.

“Yeah! The thing tonight at the bar! I mean, it’s nothing big, so I guess ‘party’ isn’t the right word, but that Junker band he likes just happens to be playing. That’s why I suggested they go there... Didn’t he invite you?”. She shook her head no.

“He said he would be going out for the night with just Roadhog. I distinctly remember him saying it wouldn’t be the sort of place I’d like,” Sym explained, and the little pang in her heart felt sharper than it had a few days ago. _Just like my school days... No one wants me around because I’m “Miss No-Fun”._ _Maybe we aren’t as good of friends as I had thought..._ Sombra looked displeased with her retelling.

"Well that's shitty of him," she muttered.

"I suppose he wouldn't be wrong," Sym said, trying to console herself, and that made Sombra frown even more. She drummed her fingers on the table and stopped when she very clearly started hatching a plan.

"Fuck that. You're gonna' be my date tonight!" she said (or, more accurately, ordered). Sym quickly shook her head.

"I'm sorry, but I do not think of you in that way,". Sombra chuckled.

"No, I mean, come with me to the bar. Prove Toasty wrong!" she grinned. Symmetra fiddled with the top button of her blouse as she weighed out her options. _Should I stay put, or go out?_

“If he didn’t invite me, then I don’t think he’d enjoy my presence. Besides, it would be petty of m-,” she started but paused mid-sentence after hearing Junkrat’s cackle of delight as he managed to steal another dumpling from the dish. Hog muttered a few expletives and snorted at his friend to not get used to his relaxed guard. _No fun, am I?!_ The knot of stress that had been building in the back of her mind for months seemed to pop.

“You know what? I will join you after all,” she agreed, and Sombra’s face lit up.

“Hell yes! That’s what I’m talking about! Meet me at my room at six. We’ll swing out to the village and get him something, and then meet them there!” Sombra said, devising a cunning plan of some sort. She popped back up on her feet, ready to bound off. She gave Sym one last sweeping gaze and tsked in slight disapproval.

“Make sure to dress fun though,” she instructed, and turned away with a wave, “Don’t worry about a ride. We’ll take my motorcycle,”. _MOTORCYCLE?!_

Symmetra tried to make peace with the choice of vehicle. Neither of the two had cars of their own, and if she correctly recalled, Amelie was not someone who’d readily trust her’s in the hands of either of them. The first thing she did upon returning to the lab was look up the schematics of a standard helmet. She quickly memorized them and made a few practice ones before deeming her creations satisfactory.

She dug through her dresser and closet to find something that constituted as “fun”. She found an old pair of high-waisted denim pants that she’d forgotten she’d ever owned, and somewhere towards the back of her closet hung a tee-shirt from the Numbani Tech Convention from two years ago. _Junkrat is wearing a tee-shirt to the bar. This should suffice._ But what to do for a gift? She supposed she could tell him about the lens glove that would be arriving the next day. It wasn’t something he could open, but hardlight was a gift in itself, and perhaps that would work. Her eyes darted to her dresser and her small jewelry box. _Jewelry... I should switch to something not so eye-catching as my earrings..._

She unclasped her gold hoops and slipped them into one of the drawers. Those wouldn’t do, but she had some glass beaded ones that were casual looking. She slipped her fingers into the other little drawer, and they brushed something else. _...keys? ...KEYS!_

They were the keys to the jet skis she’d won back at the silent auction! The damn things had sat in the hanger, useless and unloved by her. Even if the Junkers couldn’t get them to work, no doubt Junkrat would find some way to put the parts to use. It would be perfect! She grabbed the keys and made a small box for them. She’d even gone so far as to make the box look like it was wrapped with a metal ribbon and bow. She gave the little package a look of satisfaction before tucking it into her small canvas purse.

She gave a knock on Sombra’s door exactly at six. There were some scuffling and grunts with a quick “coming!” before the door opened. Sombra was part way through her make-up, with a tube of mascara in one hand, and an eyelash curler in the other. Behind her hung cords and computer screens everywhere, and she could hardly see how the woman could safely navigate her own floor. Dozens of holographic screens hovered near the walls, illuminating the small room with a sharp purple glow. It was a lot to take in.

“That really isn’t what you’re going to wear, is it?” was how Symmetra was greeted. She looked down at her own selection, which contrasted sharply with Sombra’s fluorescent green and black cut-off shorts and tight little crop top.

“I... You said to dress fun,” she reminded.

“This is fun?” Sombra snorted, waving her hand up and down. Symmetra wrinkled her nose before growing haughty.

“For your information,” she started, while crossing her arms, “I wore this to a company-sponsored trip to an amusement park! What is more fun than that?!”.

“Amusement park? Oh my god, please tell me you took pictures!” Sombra nearly whispered with delight. Sym stared down her nose at her.

“It was billed as “A world of epic adventure”. I was forced to wear an undignified Murloc hat, or some such nonsense, and pose with people in giant mascot costumes! It was horrible and I destroyed all photographic evidence available,”. Sombra turned back around with a chuckle and waved her in. She then clicked her fingers and all the computer screens and cables simply vanished with a flash. Her room was nearly spotless and completely void of any character or style.

“Look Sym, it’s no offense, but you’re going to look like a lost tourist if you go in dressed like that,” she chided, and went through her own drawers while eyeballing Symmetra’s figure, “Let’s just pretend you’re going undercover!”. Sombra’s suggestion appealed to the architech. She could handle that. She was a spy on a mission, infiltrating and blending in with the locals. Her imagination came to a halt as soon as she felt Sombra’s hands on either side of her hips. She jumped to attention and stared at the hacker.

“WHAT ARE YOU-,”.

“Damn your ass is mighty!” Sombra interrupted. Apparently, she was taking her measurements.

“I beg your pardon?!”.

“Sorry Sym. Didn’t mean to get touchy there,” she apologized, and held her hands back up to once again gauge the size, “But trust me. Mighty is a good thing,”. Sym blushed at the odd compliment. Sombra’s eyes flicked back to her dresser drawer, and her Cheshire smile once again returned.

“I have just the thing!”

 

**.           .           .           .           .**

 

Junkrat’s birthday was off to a great start. He’d spent the earlier part of the day doing exactly what it was he wanted to do; sleep in and dick around doing nothing. Hog let him have some dumplings with minimal coaxing, and the afternoon was spent repairing and perfecting his “battle vest”. He’d really outdone himself this time! He found out that spikes and studs could be purchased off the internet, and his package had arrived just in time to adorn the repurposed denim jacket.

He considered just poking away at the jacket randomly, but frowned, and started putting them in neatly-placed repetitive patterns. Stud, spike, stud, spike, stud, spike. He edged the shoulder seams with the slightly larger spikes and dotted the armholes with the black studs. Lastly came sewing on the new patch he’d just embroidered; a crude image of a robot head with a red slash across it on a black background.

As he looked in the mirror in his water closet, he examined his ears. Perhaps he could find a couple safety pins for a quick piercing or two. He knew he had a bottle of rubbing alcohol somewhere in his room, and squinted his eyes shut. _Iiiiiiiit’s... on th’floor... by the desk’s back left... safety pins are by th’magazine stack an’ chess pieces._

He quickly collected the items and “sanitized” them with the rubbing alcohol. He stood in front of the mirror again with a pin in hand, ready to poke it through his earlobe, when a thought occurred to him. He was going to a Screamin’ Dingos show, and those shows had a history of growing intense. If he went into the pit, there was a very real chance that the pin could be ripped out. If it did, then he’d have to go to the infirmary. If he did that, that would put him in close proximity to Moira’s office. His face tugged into a frown and he sat the safety pin back down. _Why’s she gotta’ ruin everything?_

Sym had gone on a date with her, and it irked him a lot more than he’d care to admit. It wasn’t that he was jealous, per se. He was more disgusted with himself for the feeling of it altogether. It just reminded him that, though Sym said she didn’t look down upon him, he still didn’t even stand a chance to be with a woman like that. They both just existed in two vastly different worlds. That’s why he didn’t bother inviting her to the bar or show. He also flat-out didn’t approve of Moira. Sym deserved someone nice; who didn’t remind him of a predator circling prey.

Hog knocked on his door, putting an end to the stupid intrusive thoughts. _That’s right! T’day’s my birthday! Gonna’ be a real BLAST!_ His friend was wearing an old shirt of his. It had a pig skull and crossbones on it with the letters LAP underneath. Hog once told him that it stood for “Liberate All Pigs”. His friend told him how nature had an order, and that humans fucked it up. He probably wasn’t wrong.

“Only gits wear band shirts to th’band they’re seein’, mate. Go change,” Hog huffed. Junkrat sneered.

“Says who?! Anyone who listens to th’Dingos knows that rules are shit. I’m wearin’ it!” he stubbornly countered and folded his arms in front of him. Besides! It was the coolest shirt he owned, and it was his birthday! Hog gave in with a snort.

“Let’s get food,” he suggested, resigned, and Junkrat followed him to the hangar so they could ride into town to find something.

The nearest town was a decent drive out; far enough away from headquarters to keep its where-abouts unknown, but not so far as to constitute as a road trip. It was also a known stopping point for tourists on their way from Amazonian hiking trails to either Sao Paulo or Rio, and the two noticeable Junkers didn’t stand out quite so much to the locals. Still, they did get plenty of stares from everyone as they drove down the main drag in the Mayhem Mobile.

They located a few food carts and stands, all boasting things that were deep fried, or stewed, or barbecued, or dusted with sugar and filled with cream. They rounded up a pile comprised of just about everything, snagged a couple bottled drinks from a little convenience store, and sat on a grassy little stretch near a water fountain. It made for a nice picnic spot, and the pair inhaled their spread. He smiled through every bite, remembering when he a Hog had first reached Sydney. Well, he remembered parts of it, anyway. There’d been a fountain there, too.

“Oi, Hog... You remember th’fountain in Sydney?”. Hog looked over from his coxinha and nodded.

“‘N how I stuck my foot in the water t’cool off?”. Hog grunted an acknowledgment.

“‘N how the cops came t’chase us out, an’ I slugged th’one in th’face, an’ then I got hauled off, but you smashed their car up b’fore they could take me away?” he grinned. Roadhog grumbled a “yeah”, and Junkrat smiled even more.

“Those were good times, mate,” he said and broke out into a cackle, to which Roadhog joined in with his own rumbling belly laugh.

The bar was already open when they arrived, though the show wouldn’t start until eight o’clock with a warm-up band, so he estimated that the Dingos wouldn’t actually start playing until somewhere around nine. That gave him plenty of time to get somewhere near the tipsy point, and then proper drunk near ten or eleven. He’d made a plan (a proper one, this time), and he wanted to stick to it! _No fuck ups, like in Junkertown!_

They staked out the perfect hunkering spot to call their own. It was a large booth near the back for when they needed a cool down. The place in all was to their liking. It wasn’t quite a hole-in-the-wall, and it wasn’t a club, either. They sort of had a rock-n-roll vibe, balanced with a sense of humor. It was just the sort of place the Screamin’ Dingos loved to play; a reminder of the lone bar in Junkertown.

“When’s Som gettin’ here?” Hog asked, having returned from the counter with two pints and two shots of whiskey.

“Er, any time now, I guess,” he shrugged and took the little shot glass between his fingers. Hog settled into his seat with a groan and grabbed his. Like most cultures, the Junkers had their own distinct traditions when drinking. Shots always came first, following the old adage “Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear”, but the initial drink couldn’t be had without a clink of glasses in toast followed by “cheers, mate”. Anyone who came to the table late had to “tag-in” in the same fashion, but the initial drinkers could continue to enjoy whatever they liked. He and Hog tapped their glasses, said their toasts, and knocked them back. Junkrat pulled a face and gave a cough. Straight liquor was always rough, which was why he mostly stuck with beer and cider.

“Fuck! That never gets easier!” he chuckled while coughing.

The bar slowly filled up, and the volume increased. Amps and instruments for the opening act were getting set up by stagehands, and Junkrat’s head began to buzz with excitement. Oh, he hoped there’d be a proper pit! The past few shows he’d gone to had security guards that tried to shut that sort of stuff down, and he and Hog had even been tossed out from the last one (figuratively speaking). And he’d appreciate the opportunity to blow off some steam. Not being on the run had been nice, but having a steady job and routine brought its own types of stress, too.

“Think I see Som,” Hog said with a nudge, “...but she’s with someone?”. Junkrat’s eyebrows perked up.

“What? Who?” he asked, looking around. He was surprised about the hacker bringing a date with her. He supposed he hadn’t told her NOT to bring anyone, but she always seemed like such a loner in that regard. Was it some random Talon soldier that she thought looked cute? That seemed like her style.

“Don’t know. Doesn’t look like no one I kn-,”. Hog’s answer came to a halt, and all semblance of reason vacated Junkrat’s brain. It was Symmetra, and from one single look at the way she was dressed, he knew in an instant that he was a goner.

Her top was tight and ended just above her navel. It was black and had a hot pink pixelated heart that pulsed with light like a heart rhythm. The black denim shorts came up high at her waist but barely covered her hips and backside. Knee-high boots, long loose hair, and a black choker around her neck? He’d officially crossed into no-hoper territory.

“Happy birthday, Toasty. Hope you don’t mind I brought Sym along,” Sombra greeted. She herself didn’t exactly blend in. She’d painted her face up like she did in her old Los Muertos days, just as he’d remembered. A glowing skull looked right at him, and the smile underneath was the same one she always wore when she was up to no good.

“Happy birthday, Junkrat,” Sym quietly greeted. It wasn’t a timid sort of quiet either. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was exacting some sort of revenge.

“Oh! Er, thanks!” he bumbled and slid over to make room at the booth.

“Oof! That ride in made me thirsty. Sym! Be a doll and grab me a beer. Pacifico, if they got it,” Sombra ordered, and handed her a long wallet. Sym hesitantly took it and walked over to the bar. Sombra wasn’t finished with making her grand entrance. She looked over to Roadhog and pulled a face.

“Mind if I have a little chat with your ‘boss’, Chicharone?” she requested. Hog looked from Sombra to Junkrat and back. He shrugged his shoulders and got out of his seat. _Wha-?! Some loyalty! Bodyguard, my pasty ass!_

“Don’t know what you did, mate, but you’re on your own with this one,” he grunted and began to walk away, “birthdays be damned,”. Sombra slid into the seat across from him and stared him in the eye.

“Hope I didn’t cross the line bringing her with me,” Sombra started, clearly not giving a damn about any lines or what he thought. Junkrat shrugged like it was no big deal and grabbed his mostly-finished pint.

“‘Z fine,” he mumbled and tilted his glass back. Sombra folded her arms.

“Heard you didn’t invite her. So, what? Did you two fight or something?”. Junkrat swallowed the last few drops and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What? No! Everything’s fine!” he said, because as far as he knew everything was. Som still looked peeved at him, displeased with his answer, and for some reason that he couldn’t explain, he was beginning to feel guilty. He glanced over at Sym, who waited patiently as the bartender slipped a translator piece over his ear. He was a gruff looking man, and he seemed perplexed by the woman in front of him.

“Then why didn’t you invite her?” Sombra asked. Junkrat rolled his eyes. Wasn’t it obvious?

“Cause I know she don’t like places like this. Figgered, y’know, why bother?” he shrugged, and he noted Hog stepping up to stand right behind Sym, who was waiting for her drinks to be poured. The sound tech ran a couple mic checks, and there was a sharp little screech for a moment, causing just about everyone in attendance the jump or flinch, save for the hairy and grizzled lead bartender.

“That’s the thing, though. Yeah, sure, if you’d asked, she probably would have said no. But you lied to her. Said it was just going to be you and Hog. You know how mean that sounded when she eventually found out? And you did that to somebody you say is your friend,” she lectured. Junkrat didn’t like the guilt creeping in. _Not on my birthday!_

“I didn’t tell ‘er cause... I dunno! She’s still a Suit, alright! She’d stick out like... well... like a Suit at a Screamin’ Dingos show! This ain’t ‘er place!” he snapped. Sombra gave him a lopsided frown.

“Think you underestimate her, you know that? She’s not dumb. She knows how to blend in. Besides, it’s not like she’s some sort of dainty diva,” Sombra began, but she was interrupted by Sym’s voice.

“Sir, this glass is filthy and unacceptable. I recommend you have a talk with your dishwasher,” she ordered, holding the glass mug out to him with a pinched look. The bartender scowled at her and was about to tell her where she could shove the filthy glass, but Hog silently drew his thumb across his throat in warning, and he suddenly had a change in heart. Junkrat turned back towards Som with the biggest “I told you so” stare he could muster.

“Ok, that’s bad timing, but still, don’t exclude her like that again. Even if she’d probably say no, at least give her the choice to decide for herself,” Sombra advised. Junkrat grumbled and sunk into the booth, frustrated by it all. Since when did little stuff like this start getting under his skin? _The day she walked in here, mate._

“Since when did you start gettin’ so chummy n’ such?” he wondered. Sombra’s eyes flicked up, and she took time forming her thought.

“Y’know, it’s weird. Her boss is a piece of shit. Vishkar is shit. Technically speaking, she’s kinda’ my enemy, or should be anyway,” Sombra started, and gave another pause, “But, corny as this sounds, she’s not like them. She’s no angel, but I know she isn’t getting the full story from her boss, either. Well, that and possibly a slight “corporate brainwashing”... You read her article? The one in the architech magazine? I know Hog read it,”. There went that familiar sense of shame that liked to bubble up whenever he thought about it. It was probably in his best interests to get rid of the damn thing so he’d at least rid himself of the temptation to read it again.

“Yeah, he thought I should since I didn’t read her file or whatever,” he admitted.

“Yeah. Kinda’ gave me a better picture of her... Hard to break away from your job when your job is your stand-in family...,” she murmured.

“Wot, like, you pity her or somethin’?”. Sombra shook her head no.

“Pity? Nah. Think "empathize" is a better word. Plus, when a person saves your life... maybe some kinda’, I dunno’, link is formed,”. He opened his mouth to say something, but Hog and Sym returned to their booth with drinks in hand. Sym slid a beer to her "date" and settled in with a half-pint of what looked like cider. In Hog's massive hands sat four shot glasses; two filled with whiskey, and the other two filled with some greenish liquid. _Hog, you cheeky bastard..._ Hanging from his thick fingers were two more mugs of beer, which Junkrat gladly helped him with. Both of the ladies grabbed their own drinks, ready to take their first sips when Hog snorted at them.

"Nah, not yet. You two are drinkin' with Junkers, so you follow Junker rules. Shots first b’fore you tag in with us," he instructed while nudging the glasses over to them. Sombra's devious grin returned.

"I feel so honored and special!" she snickered, while Sym carefully grabbed one of each glass. She brought it up to her nose, ready to take a sniff, but Hog halted her with a wag of his finger. He held his mug out, as did a very eager Junkrat. _Oh my god, this is gonna' be great!_

"T'this drongo!" Hog rumbled, thumbing over to him, "I'd say he has a heart a'gold, but he'd probably go n' try t'pawn it off!". Junkrat cackled at that.

"Aw, Hog, love ya' too, mate!" he beamed. Symmetra followed Sombra's lead and held up her whiskey shot first. They clinked glasses together with a "cheers", though she looked confused as Som knocked back one shot, then the other.

"That one first, then go right to th'other one without stoppin’," Junkrat explained. Before she could see Sombra's strained face, Sym tipped hers back. Her eyes popped open and her face soured as she began to cough from the rough liquor.

"Quick! Next one!" he said, and assuming it would take the burn away, she slugged back the other glass. The face she made for that one was priceless. Her face scrunched and pinched, and she shook her head.

"What IS that?!" she sputtered, and even Sombra tried clearing her throat as she shook her head.

"Pickle brine!" Som answered, "Congrats, Sym. You've just had your first Pickleback! Ho-fuck those are rough! Haven’t had one in a few years!".

"It is VILE!" she squawked. Hog's bellylaugh never stopped.

"Yeah, I like settin' th'bar low. Now everythin' you drink is gonna' taste good. An' now you had your one swig a whiskey, so now you can drink whatever you like without gettin' th'spins,". Symmetra shook her head.

"Surely, there is a better way," she grunted. Hog had downed his mug in one go, stood back up, and left for the restroom. Sombra gazed around the bar, made eye-contact with somebody sitting on a bar stool, and she raised her eyebrows as she appraised the man.

"Oh, there's my type; tall, dark, and dangerous," she noted to herself, "Sym! Let me up! I have a mighty need,". She complied, and suddenly it was just the two of them sitting across from each other. Junkrat drummed his fingers across the table nervously.

“So... You, erm... look nice. Like your glowy heart,” he started, pointing at the illuminating pulse. Sym smirked and gazed down at her top.

“It is Sombra’s, so I can’t take credit. She insisted I wear something ‘fun’, but my selection was not to her approval. The light flashes in tandem with my pulse,” she remarked and huffed, “But it offered hardly any protection for our ride out,”. Junkrat’s brain tripped up.

“You two rode out on ‘er bike?” he asked. She nodded yes, and slowly sipped at her cider. She pulled a face. Apparently, the pickle brine flavor still lingered on her tongue. Junkrat was too busy imagining Sym riding a motorcycle, her arms wrapped around his torso as she pressed up against him, and her hair blowing behind her.

“What didja’ think? Ain’t it ‘mazin’?!” he asked, beaming a smile.

“It was terrifying! I kept my eyes shut nearly the entire drive and clung to Sombra until we were nearly fused together! I do not look forward to the return trip. But... I will admit that there is something exhilarating about it,” she answered. Junkrat was delighted by her addendum. He always loved the Mayhem Mobile (of which he saw as a dependable steed for the pair), and he had this wild fantasy of taking her with him one day. They could ride out with Hog. She could sit on his lap and he could hold her close, and... _Nope! Nopenopenope! Don’t go startin’ that again!_

Once again the amplifiers screeched to life. The sound technician did a quick mic check. The show was going to begin any minute, and his heart raced with excitement, preparing itself for the music that would follow. With any luck, it would be fast, loud, and chaotic; everything he loved! ...and everything she hated. He looked back at her, finally getting to a point where she could enjoy her cider without the ghost of the Pickleback looming around her.

“Er, Sym? It’s gonna’ be loud as fuck in a minute. You... You sure you wanna’ stay fer this?” he warned. She could hardly stand the sounds he made at his full volume. He highly doubted she was going to like what either of the two bands had in store for the crowd. To his surprise, she gave him a nod.

“Yes, actually! I found an old headset design in the Vishkar archives that will work perfectly in the situation!” she informed, and quickly whipped the item up. She slipped the device over her head and clicked it on. It reminded him of a more streamlined variation of the one she’d worn on missions. A band arced across her head and clamped over her ears. A small blue visor began to glow over here eyes, and she gave him a triumphant smile.

“This allows me to select what sounds I wish to hear. The headset can detect who or what I am looking at, and can soften background noises around it so I can better hear it,” she reassured. Junkrat marveled at the impressive creation.

“Now that’s cool as shit!” he said. The warm-up act finally walked out on stage to only a few claps and cheers from the gathering audience, and Junkrat hopped out of the booth. He straightened his vest and rolled his neck and shoulders to loosen himself up.

“I see the concert is about to begin!” she remarked and Junkrat chuckled.

“Ain’t exactly a concert... Listen, I’m gonna’ be gone fer a minute. Mind watchin’ my drink?” he asked. Sym said she wouldn't mind, and Junkrat locked eyes with Roadhog, who was coming back from the restroom and heading back to the bar for another round.

“Oh! An’ another thing,” he said, cracking his knuckles.

“What is that?”. The drummer sat down on his stool, the bass and lead guitarists slung their instruments over their shoulders, and the lead singer sauntered up to the microphone.

“Don’t let me get too drunk!”. The first act didn’t waste time with opening lines. They simply pulled picks out of their pockets and began to wail on their guitars. Every standing body rushed towards the stage, and Junkrat threw himself into the pit.

**.           .           .           .           .**

_Don’t let you get too drunk?!_ She did not come to that filthy bar to play as his babysitter. _Besides! ...That’s Roadhog’s job!_ She knew he meant it in jest and just smirked his instructions away. She clicked her own fingernails against the tabletop as she saw him throw his entire body into the swelling mass of people. The last she saw of him was his booted foot sticking up in the air, implying that he had already managed to upend himself.

The music was utterly terrible. The beat was much too fast to be enjoyable. There seemed to be more emphasis on making as much noise as possible; quantity over quality. And the lyrics? Well, she couldn’t particularly discern what the man with the dark spiked hair was screeching, but she doubted she would like it. She turned the background volume down even lower. Perhaps the Screamin' Dingos would display more talent. Roadhog had returned to the table with more drinks for himself and for Junkrat (whenever he chose to come back to their booth).

“He’ll be back b’fore the third song. Rat burns his first wave out quick but he’s savin’ his stamina fer the Dingos,” Hog nearly shouted. _Stamina..._ Sym shook her head and adjusted Roadhog’s personal volume

“It’s fine. I don’t mind being table watcher,” she said, making sure to shout so he could hear her. The first song ended, and she’d just finally drained the last of her half-pint. She’d discovered cider made an acceptable substitute when wine wasn’t available, and she’d rather not order a cocktail.

“Nice of ya’ t’show up. He’s never had a proper party b’fore. Always been just us,” Hog said. Symmetra studied him in detail. Roadhog had gone so far as to wear a shirt, and though it managed to fit both his neck and arms, it still popped up, exposing the bottom half of his tattooed belly.

“Kind of you to treat him to something he enjoys,” she noted. He shoved his mask up just enough for him to be able to drink some more.

“Ain’t I a sweetheart?” he said and laughed until he coughed. He shoved his mask back down to suck in a few calming breaths. She’d heard rumors that his mask was the only thing that kept him breathing properly, and now she could confirm the theory for herself. A silence fell between them as the second song started back up, and she looked back over the audience to find Junkrat. Being as tall as he was, she could see his head bobbing above the rest of the crowd, and after seeing his smile, she was assured that he hadn’t been ground to a pulp underneath the other attendees’ feet.

She and Hog watched the table through the second song, while Sombra relentlessly flirted with “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Dangerous”. She’d managed to sweet-talk him into a drink (not that it took much convincing. He’d seemed pretty compliant from the moment she sat down next to him). _So... this is a casual night out..._ While she hated the music and the bar’s lack of cleanliness, she was't displeased with her choice in accepting Sombra's offer. Roadhog was proving to be a perfect table mate, in that he allowed the music to be the only conversation. Overall it was far more mentally comfortable than her date with Moira had been. There was no image to upkeep, no worry of saying the wrong thing, no forced banter. She hissed a breath out at the mere thought of the night at the opera, and tried to take comfort in celebrating what had to be the antithesis of Sunday's terrible “double-date”.

“Aw Hog! Hog did y’see me?! Christ, I was really tearin’ it up out there!” Junkrat crowed as he came back after the second song, already drenched in sweat. He reached into his back left pocket and pulled out a light blue bandanna, which he used to wipe the sweat off his head and neck.

“Take it easy out there. Ain’t some sweet young thing no more,” Hog advised, and tilted his head in a way that insinuated that he was winking. _He’s twenty-six if I remember correctly._

Junkrat was an interesting figure for twenty-six. Somehow she’d blocked it out of her mind that, physically speaking, he was younger than her, though not by much. His face held the lines of a man who’d been through quite a lot (and given the stories he told, that was assuredly the case). His eyes, though, always held a giddy youthful sparkle that no one else could ever hope to replicate.

He settled into the spot next to her with an “oof” and leaned back with heaving breaths. Hog nudged a somewhat cold beer his way, and he drank it down in five consecutive gulps. Relieved, he sighed and looked at her for a moment. _Oh for the love of..._ There came that looming... feeling... again. Peeking from under his spiked vest, his shirt clung to his chest and stomach, and seeing him relaxed and slightly gasping was triggering a sense of arousal. _There isn’t any more hope for me. I am bound to do something stupid tonight._ Admitting it would hopefully soften the blow for whatever may come.

Symmetra hardly noticed the opening band continue its third song. She was three drinks in and had reached a level of tipsiness that alerted her to back off the alcohol. Junkrat seemed downright sober, and he mentioned something about sweating out the booze already. _Yes. Sweat. It’s a bloody sauna in here._

The guest of honor decided he wanted a shot, and the bartender threw in a free energy drink. Sym wasn’t so sure he should have caffeine, but he said it’d be alright and would stop drinking for a little while. Hog approved of her caution with a grunt. The opening act cranked out two more songs before getting off the stage, and the set up for The Screamin’ Dingos began. Hog complained that he was too hot (his use of the phrase "sweating like a pig" was a bit more than a figurative observation), and stepped outside for some fresh air before the real party began.

“Are you having fun, Junkrat?” she asked, relishing the fact that the godawful band had finally stopped making such terrible noise. She was finally able to engage in conversation.

“Aw yeah!” Junkrat said, leaning forward on the table, “Tons! I missed this! Me ‘n Hog could always find shows like this on th’road. Great way t’let out some tension,”. _Tension..._

“You likin’ it alright?”. Symmetra thought about his question. She wouldn’t lie, but there was no sense hurting his feelings.

“It is definitely not an experience I would personally try to replicate, but I do not wish to leave. I will consider this a... learning experience,” she tactfully answered, and it was true that she’d never forget a moment like that. He smiled with his eyes half closed, and an inappropriate image of him formed in her mind without her permission.

“So, tell me why you are all... spiked?” she asked, pointing towards all the metal puncturing his repurposed denim jacket. He looked down at it, as though only just remembering he was wearing it.

“Oh! It’s m’battle vest! Like armor fer th’pit!” he chirped and thumbed back towards the stage. Yes, that certainly made sense. She gave him a little “ah” and wondered why making conversation with him was suddenly so difficult.

“‘Sides, makes me look like a badass, don’t y’think? A real bruiser!” he added. She used context clues to try and figure out what “bruiser” meant. Honestly, she was beginning to wonder if half the things he and Hog said were just some made up code that only they could understand.

“Is that a good thing? Being a bruiser?”. Junkrat raised an eyebrow.

“Well... well yeah! I mean, t’some of us, yeah... Don’t think you’d think it’s a good thing but I do,” he scrambled, and his face flushed from the heat. _Yes. The heat. Just like when we played chess._ She took a moment to excuse herself for the restroom, and as he let her out of the booth she caught a whiff of his sweat. Somehow it smelled less disgusting and more (dare she even THINK it) alluring. _This... this is getting ridiculous._

Even more ridiculous was the horrendous state of the toilets in the women’s room. She trusted their cleanliness about as much as she trusted Sanjay’s concept of fidelity, and formed a sterile hardlight cover over it. She washed her hands vigorously afterward, just in case. One thing did catch her eye the entire time she was in there though, and that was the graffiti lining the walls and stall doors. Most of it consisted of women writing their names with permanent marker and the dates of their visits underneath. It was a wanton destruction of property that wasn’t theirs to destroy, but looking at how far back the dates stretched, she reached the conclusion that the owner of the establishment didn’t seem to care.  _Well, if everyone else is leaving their mark..._  She didn’t have a marker on her, but she did have her gauntlet. She quickly added a little metal plate with her engraved initials and the date. The plate firmly fused to the wood paneling, and she left to rejoin Junkrat at their booth. She found that he also had a couple of drinks waiting for them at the table.

“Got ya a little somethin’, seein’ as how Som an’ Hog seem t’be preoccupied,” he said, pointing at the two, who were too busy chatting with each other on the other side of the building.

“Ah, thank you, Junkrat, but I wasn’t planning on drinking anything else tonight,” she said as she slid into the other side of the booth so as to sit across from him. The drink was some sort of cocktail garnished with a couple cherries pierced with a plastic sword. Her admission didn’t make any sense to the Junker.

“Wot? Ain’t like you’re drivin’ back, roight? Som’s only got water now anyhow. Live a little!” he suggested. She looked over and noticed that he was right. Sombra WAS drinking from a water bottle, holding up her end of the bargain that she was going to be the designated driver, and she supposed enough time had passed for her to imbibe a little more without growing out of control. She'd just drink it slowly, buying herself some time and preventing anyone from ordering her another. She took a sip and pulled a face. It wasn’t quite as awful as the first shot had been, but the drink was loaded with so much sugar she could almost feel her teeth ache, which was followed by a tangy aftertaste.

“What is this?” she wondered. Junkrat slurped his down.

“Whiskey sour! Was feelin’ fancy!” he replied, his lips broadening with a smile and the tip of his straw clenched firmly between his teeth. _Teeth..._ Maybe it was a weird thing to fixate upon, but she always wondered how a man who rarely showered always managed to have such clean straight teeth, which would lead her to wonder what the story was behind the two gold ones that would glint at her every time he smiled. _I should just ask him already..._

The more she sipped, the more she liked the selection of drink and sitting made her oblivious to the return of her tipsiness. Despite the circumstances of her location and "ambiance", she was having something that felt like fun. Or maybe it was just a sense of ease. The worries of Moira were long gone, and all she could think about was how she liked her whiskey sour the more she sipped away. It was so wonderfully sweet and sour that she could hardly taste the alcohol. _Perhaps the bartender made mine a little on the weak side. He certainly didn't like me all that much._

"Alright, you little shits! Get yer asses out on the floor, or we'll feed ya to th'Dingos!" a man with a raspy voice bellowed into the mic, causing her to jump. She hadn't seen anyone approaching the stage and had left her headset switched to its default setting. Junkrat popped up excitedly out of his seat, giddy with anticipation.

"Aw, Sym! They're startin'! They're startin'!" he cackled and tore off towards the crowd. The lights dimmed, and she could hear the sound of clinking chains and grinding metal. She hastily fiddled with her earpiece before the noise grew too overbearing. Soon enough, the band clambered up to the stage, and she could tell right from the get-go that they were honest to goodness Junkers. Their clothes were tattered and patched. Their arms were tattooed, and the drummer even sported a prosthetic leg cobbled together with spare parts just like Junkrat. And their instruments? They must have been hand-built too because she'd never heard of a guitar that was revved to life like a chainsaw! The audience howled and barked like a pack of dogs, and she spotted Junkrat standing amongst them howling on alert with his hands cupped around his mouth. It was all so wild, and she’d never seen music alone cause such an animalistic response. _Animalistic..._

Unlike the first group, the Screamin' Dingos' music had a solid beat that was nowhere near as frantically paced. The lyrics were discernible, and while Junkrat still threw himself back into the mass with an almost maniacal abandon, she found herself calmly tapping the rhythm on the tabletop. Shortly after the music began, a bartender came out with a tray and stopped at the booth. He placed another whiskey sour and two bottles of water in front of her before clearing away the empty glasses.

"Compliments of that big guy. He said to make sure the skinny guy drinks one of those bottles," he grunted, leaning his head towards Roadhog, who stood off towards the edge of the fray. As if he could sense he was being watched, the gigantic man turned and gave her a thumbs-up before turning back around and began to rock his head up and down with the tune while pumping his meaty fist in the air. She gulped her water down and used the hydration as an excuse to enjoy another one of those tasty little beverages. Everyone around her was having fun, and she began to feel somewhat lonely sitting there all by herself.

Alone though she was, the show ran on. The Dingos sang about everything from destroying all Omnics to the sad tale of "Lockjaw Larry" (and the importance of getting a tetanus shot), and it was a rather unique sound that they generated. At one point they announced they were covering a song from nearly a century ago, the lyrics of which were simply about a woman; some particular woman who could see right through you, and could set you free. Junkrat stumbled out of the pit, once again covered in sweat and missing a couple spikes off his battle vest. Symmetra handed him the water bottle and he drained the whole thing before he flopped back into the booth.

"Fffffuck I'm gettin' old! Only half a set in an' I'm out fer th'count!" he gasped. He flagged a bartender down and ordered another round of water and, hell, why not another drink for him and his pretty friend?

Why did he have to say "pretty"?! Why was she breaking out into a fiery blush?! He used his bandanna to wipe more sweat off his brow and popped his foot up onto the seat in a lounging sort of pose. _HOW AM I FINDING HIM SO DAMN CHARMING RIGHT NOW?!_ The next round of drinks arrived, and she stared down at hers. _Oh! THAT'S why..._ She continued to eye it and frowned. _Fuck it! Just... FUCK IT!_ She leaned forward, and delicately wrapped her lips around the tip of the straw, hardly even noticing the flavor at all anymore. Tomorrow there would be a hangover, but that would be tomorrow's problem.

"Come dance with me!" he pleaded. Sym looked up from her straw.

"Excuse me?".

"Dance! C'mon! You've been sittin' here all night! Come dance! Sweat it out b'fore y'get bombed out!". The music wasn't the sort she thought she could move to, but he gave her a pitiful little face (one could even describe it as puppy-dog eyes) and she found it difficult to object to.

"I'd rather not get trampled," she said. Were her words starting to slur a little? No, surely not.

"Nah, not in th'pit. Off to th'side! I'll keep ya outta' trouble! C'mon, whatta' ya say?". _I think you're only going to get me into trouble..._ But suddenly trouble sounded so enticing. Determined, she stood up on only slightly shaky legs, and she followed him out.

Junkrat's concept of dancing was comical, though she couldn't say she was surprised. He hopped in place while sliding his foot backward, and spun in a circle balanced on one peg. Unsure of how to proceed, she stuck with what she knew. She turned her wrists above her head, took steps to the side, and spun around before bringing it all back to her starting position. Junkrat beamed, and a giggle escaped her. She laughed even further when they were joined by Hog and Sombra, who had their own choice moves. The Junkers even coordinated their rotating styles, slapping their palms together as the came back around and around, and she couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed so freely.

The show had to come to an end at some point though, and the Screamin' Dingos finished it off with a song that they said would be on their new album, "Tits'n'Tats". The song was called "The Queen's Fool", and the story went that once upon a time the Queen of Junkertown had a favorite paramour, who she called her fool, because he dared to think he actually stood equal with her, and because he loved her he learned the hard way that there was no such thing as a Queen Bee having a King.

Winded and sweaty, the group settled back at their table, wanting to unwind before heading back to headquarters. She settled back into the spot she'd sat at most of the night, though this time Junkrat sat in the spot next to her. He immediately slammed a shot of something, and she took the glass away from.

“You said I was to keep you from getting too drunk! That’s your last one!” she said with a wag of her finger. Junkrat let out a hissing laugh, his tongue licking out for a second.

“Ffffine,” he said, “but that’s yer last one, too,”. She gave her neglected and diluted sour a stir of her straw and squinted her eyes almost shut. She was definitely feeling hers, and the sweat from dancing hadn’t helped all that much. Roadhog, having finally caught his breath, stood back up and lumbered off to the merch table to look at the band's wares.

“Agreed,”. Her purse at her side had slumped next to her reminding her of something important. _What is... oh!_

“Wait! Wait! I have something for you!” she said, fishing into her bag. Junkrat looked over her shoulder, trying to peek.

“What, like a present?” he asked, and he pinched his fingers together as a crude puppet.

“Gimme!” the hand said, flapping in her line of sight, “Gimme gimme gimme!”. She giggled at it, gave him a playful shove, and stuffed the little metal box in his hand. He held it out in his palm, admiring her creation.

“Aw, look! You even boxed it up all nice!” he grinned and tried to pry it open. When it wouldn’t easily give for the drunken Junker, he stared at it like it was some complex puzzle. Sym leaned closer towards him and tapped the center of the bow. The box popped open, revealing the set of keys. The puzzled look never left his face, but he forced a smile for her benefit and picked them up.

“Er, s’pose I could make some earrings outta’ them or somethin’...” he pondered while giving them a jingle. Symmetra stifled a laugh behind the back of her hand.

“No, Junkrat. Your real gift is the items those keys go to,” she informed. His eyes narrowed to slits as he tried to decipher her statement. To him, she might as well have been speaking in riddles.

“You remember those jet skis sitting in the secondary hangar?” she hinted. He still seemed to be calculating it all together, until a mental light switch lit his face up.

“THOSE ARE YOURS?!” he gasped, and she shook her head no.

“No, Junkrat. Now they are yours,” she corrected, and he gazed at her with such pure unadulterated joy. Her heart raced, and the pixelated one on her shirt blinked at the same pace as her own rhythm. Suddenly his arms were around her, wrapping her in a hug, and there was no stopping the sense of gratitude and sweetness coursing through them both. She hardly noticed his sweat, or even him saying his thank-yous. She was too lost in his embrace. He pulled away and giddily tucked the keys back in their box before sliding it into his pocket.

“Thaz the nicest thing anyone’s given t’me... You’re a good person, Sym. Don’t let no one tell ya’ otherwise,”. No one had ever said that to her with such earnestness, and her breath stilled for a moment.

“Thank you, Junkrat,” she murmured. He gave one last chuckle and fiddled with a straw from one of the empty glasses. Her own fingers suddenly felt so still and useless, and she eyed the little panel that ran along the back of the booth, where a couple sets of poker chips and card decks lingered for anyone’s use. She grabbed an unused deck and started shuffling them with expert precision. She always found the sound and sight of them neatly falling upon each other to be so soothing.

“That’s a neat trick!” Junkrat piped, pointing at her deft movements.

“A trick? This is nothing,” she confidently assured, and she could tell she had him hooked.

“What? Don’t tell me you know card tricks!” he said. She nodded that she did.

“Yes. I had to learn a few sleight-of-hand movements for my... extracurricular work at Vishkar... Do you want to see one?” she asked, dangling the offer in front of him.

“No! I wanna’ sit on my ass an’ just watch ya’ mix ‘em up,” he sarcastically quipped, and Sym rolled her eyes. She fanned the deck out with the suits facing him.

“Pick a card, and don’t tell me what it is,” she instructed. An eager-faced Junkrat ran his fingertip along the edge, came to a stop, and plucked his choice with a knowing smile. She organized the cards back into a deck, which she cut in half.

“Place your card down so I can’t see it,”. He complied, and she shuffled the deck again. She snagged the top card and held it out for him to see.

“Is this your card?” she asked, knowing full well it wasn’t. Junkrat sadly shook his head no.

“Aw, sorry love. Think you fucked it up. Mine wasn’t seven of clubs,” he regretfully informed, turning the card towards her. She snatched it from him and stared at it.

“Oh! You’re right!” she agreed, gave the card a little flick while she swapped it out, and turned his selection to face him, “How about now?”. He gaped at her displaying the queen of diamonds and shook his head in disbelief.

“That... That was some trick, Sym!” he agreed, but his face suddenly grew devious; roguish, even, “Wanna’ see a trick of mine?”. Well... how could a lady ignore such a tempting offer? She grabbed her glass and sipped away.

“Why not?”. With her permission, Junkrat leaned forward and plucked the cherry garnish off the top of her drink by the handle of the little plastic sword. He carefully pulled it off the skewer with his teeth and held it there for display; stem and all. His lips came down, and he began to chew, his mouth and jaw moving in odd motions. _What is he..._ His lips parted, and he stuck his long tongue out. Perfectly displayed at the tip was the cherry stem tied up in a knot! She frantically slurped down her sour in hopes that it would stop her from spontaneously combusting. _That thing is practically prehensile!_

“Th-that’s quite the... quite a talent you have there!" she stammered,

“Where did you learn something like that?” she asked and took another draw from her beverage. Junkrat sat the stem on a napkin next to the plastic sword and shrugged like it was no big deal.

“Hog taught me,”. Symmetra choked and sputtered on her sip, and coughed in disbelief. Junkrat cackled and slapped the tabletop with delight.

“Naw naw, just fuckin’ with ya’! Nah, I was just bored one day an’ th’only thing we had in the trailer t’eat was a jar of these bar cherries,” he explained.

“You’re terrible!” she joked.

“I know,” he replied, his eyelids lowering with relaxation. She was slowly starting to like that expression the most. _Just... just kiss him already and be done with it!_ Her own eyelids began to lower, and she leaned towards him. _It can just be for tonight..._

“Rat! You want some more water?” Sombra hollered, and Junkrat whipped in her direction, his elbow swung over, and made contact with her nose with a distinct little “fwap”.

“Oof!” she grunted and cupped her hands over her nose. The jab hadn’t been hard; barely a pop, but the bridge of her nose tingled and she wiggled it in hopes of getting it to stop. Junkrat whipped back around and covered his mouth with guilt.

“Aw! Aw no! Not yer pretty nose!” he gasped, “I’m so sorry, Sym!”. She waved her hand dismissively.

“It’s nothing, Junkrat. It was just an accident,” she tried telling him, but he hunched down and started examining it closely.

“I didn’t mean t’hurt ya!” he babbled and gently cupped either side of her face so he could tilt her head back.

“It’s-It’s alright. It’s not bleeding. It just hurts a little” she assured.

“Oh! Oh, well there’s only one thing that can fix that!” he said and placed a gentle little peck on the end of her nose.

“There love! All better!”. It was so innocent and chaste that she was utterly dumbfounded by it. Junkrat had already turned back around and had gotten up out of his seat to grab a bottle from their friend, and Sym sat there in mild shock before breaking out into a bemused little smile. _And to think, I almost didn’t come out._ Were those butterflies in her stomach? Perhaps they were.

“Sym!” Junkrat said, causing her to jump because she hadn’t heard him walk back over.

“Just steppin’ outside with Som fer a quick minute, alright? Says she's got a gift fer me,” he assured. Sym nodded, her brain starting to feel muddled from the excessive drinking. He bounded off after the hacker and came back a few minutes later with Hog. One of them, she noted, smelled of something like burnt pine needles.

“Think it’s time t’hit it,” Hog ordered, and Junkrat nodded his agreement.

“Yeah. Think I’m feelin’ tired,”. Symmetra braced herself, finding her feet not as steady as she’d like them, and stumbled around trying to look for her ride. If the Junkers were leaving, there’d be no sense in sticking around longer than she had to. And besides, she had a lot of things to work out in her brain on the ride back.

“Whatcha’ lookin’ for?” Hog asked, catching up with her.

“Sombra... I need to find her if we’re heading home,” she informed.

“She left with Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerous. Z’alright. I’m sober. Gonna’ give ya’ a ride back,” he said, and by the sound of his voice, she had no say in the subject. She tried thinking about it. She didn’t remember seeing him with a drink in hand before the main act even took to the stage. She gave him her thanks and wobbled behind him towards the rear exit of the bar. _But, if he’s my ride, then..._ Junkrat was leaned up against the wall under a bright floodlight with a big smile on his face; his nose red from the alcohol. She gulped, finally aware of all that had transpired, and where exactly she was supposed to ride. There was only room for one in the sidecar, after all.

She and the skinny Junker leaned on each other for support, as both of them were nowhere near sober enough to walk steadily. He clambered into the grinning yellow car (or rather, tumbled into it), and righted himself. She gazed at the vehicle and realized something was missing. She’d left her helmet secured to Som’s ride, and no doubt her friend's new date was utilizing it. She whipped one up and slipped it over her head. She paused and adjusted her sizing before creating a slightly larger one and handed it to her companion.

“Wuz this for?” he asked, staring at it like it was some alien tool.

“You. Put it on,” she ordered, but he slightly scowled. Hog slumped down on the bike and waited for her to climb in so they could take off.

“She cares about your stupid brain, y’knob. Put it on,” Hog also ordered. Junkrat huffed something that sounded like acceptance and slipped it over his head. Symmetra wasn’t finished. She made one last one, increasing the size even more. She prodded Roadhog’s arm with it. He stared at the helmet, possibly in disbelief.

“Haha! She cares ‘bout your fat stupid brain, too!” Junkrat chuckled. Roadhog shook his head with a disapproving grumble, but he took it from her anyway and put it on. Appeased, Symmetra began to climb over the lip of the sidecar but stumbled and nearly fell right in. Fortunately, Junkrat caught her around her waist and helped settle her on his lap. Normally, a sober Symmetra would have felt far too awkward in that situation, but drunk Symmetra just shoved all the details out of her mind. His arms snaked around her, pulling her up against his body, which felt so pleasantly warm until she was prodded by spikes.

“Oh!” Junkrat said at the sound of her squeak and pulled his vest off. He shoved it behind the seat of the car, and she rested back against his chest. Hog revved the motorcycle and sped off back toward Talon’s base.

The ride back was exhilarating, but for very different reasons. Her mind raced with thoughts. She’d almost kissed him! She was sitting on his lap being held in his arms, and she loved the sensation of her body pressing against his, and she just wanted to kiss him even more. Maybe when they’d reach the hangar and Hog would leave, she would take their helmets off and press her lips against his and lock her fingers behind his neck so she could pull him on down on top of her... _You are drunk, you fool, and so is he._ She rested her head against his shoulder, putting the thoughts to rest. _Why did we have to drink so much?_ But would any of it have happened had they both remained sober?

Roadhog nodded towards the soldiers in the security tower and they opened the gates for them. He pulled into the hanger, parked where they had before, and turned the motorcycle off. He climbed off his seat and waved them goodnight before thumping off to bed. She supposed it was her job to see Junkrat off to his room, and if she didn’t know any better, she could have sworn Hog's decision was deliberate.

“Fuck I’m exhausted!” Junkrat yawned as he pulled the helmet off his head. She followed suit and clambered off of him.

“Come along then. I’m ready for bed, too,”. She helped him out, and he nearly toppled over her. She caught him from falling, keeping the night’s events even, and once again leaning against each other they hobbled towards his room. Junkrat unlocked his door and stumbled in. He turned around in the door frame and scratched the back of his neck with one hand while using the edging itself to brace himself. He blinked his red bloodshot eyes a couple of times.

“Thanks fer a great night Sym. Sorry... sorry I didn’t proper invite ya’,” he apologized and yawned again. She nodded her head to accept his apology.

“It’s alright, Junkrat... Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked; a silly question really because he already answered it to some degree.

“Oh yeah! Best party I think I ever had! Had all my favorite people there,” he replied, “So... I’m glad you were there for it,”. Sym smiled gently at his words.

“Happy birthday, Junkrat,” she said, stood on her toes, and gave his cheek an innocent peck. She turned around and left before she could regret her decision.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone was wondering, the old cover song The Screamin' Dingos played was "Woman" by Wolfmother. They found it on an old vinyl and thought it'd be great to add some "classical music" to their album.


	16. Ch 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three people wake up thinking about the night before. Two of the three suffer from hangovers, but decide they need to address the elephant in the room. Feelings are shared, and secrets are revealed. Roadhog speaks the truth, but remains a cheeky bastard. The Talon crew discover that Sombra made some tweaks to Ares, and the Ai has sass for days!

Sombra flexed her calf muscles and feet before letting out a groan of pleasure. The previous night had been particularly enjoyable. It had been a while too, and there was always the adage of hunger being the best spice. Mr. Tall Dark and Dangerous was just beginning to stir at her side, but she continued to stare at the ceiling of the old motel.

“Hmmmmff... Tell me there’s coffee ready, darlin’. Feelin’ like I’m hungover,” he groaned while he kept his eyes shut. Sombra sat up and stretched her arms. The overworked air conditioner gave a sputter and finally turned off, allowing the heat and humidity to quickly take over.

“You had three beers. You’re not hungover, you’re just old... And no, there isn’t any coffee,”. There was a complimentary little electric kettle and a couple packets of instant stuff, but that didn’t count. In fact, given the location of the motel, it was practically a crime. There was no excuse for that kind of garbage.

“Didn’t feel old last night,” he chuckled and rolled over onto his back. He scratched his chest, his metal fingers roaming through a thick patch of dark brown hair.

“I’ll give it to you. You sure know how to please a lady,” Sombra started, and slipped out from under the sheets, “Of course, I was already in a good mood at the bar, and that always helps,”. The man shrugged and laced his fingers behind the back of his head, still looking pleased with himself.

“Yeah, it looked like you all had a good time... Didn’t think they would be that huge though. Havin’ second thoughts on that bounty. No reward is worth gettin’ mashed like a potato,” he commented.

“Told you. I’m serious though. You’re cutting this shit way too close. You need to get the fuck out of here. Soon as you’re caught on camera, they’ll come looking for you,” she reminded. He still had a decent head start if Talon did catch wind. If he were to be spotted, she would be called upon to track him, but she could feign ignorance or a technical difficulty to buy him a little more time.

“Ah, don’t go worryin’ about me,” he said. She shook her head and bent down to scoop up her clothes.

“Thanks for not making a scene, by the way,” she said, and fished out her bra from the pile, “It was his birthday,”. She continued to dress as he rubbed his face with the heel of his palm.

“That why you brought that cute girl along?”.

“You mean woman?” Sombra warned with a smirk.

“I man woman,” he clarified. Appeased, she shrugged and pulled her shorts up.

“Yeah. Those two are cute. Like watching a couple of horny teenagers trying to solve a Rubik’s cube blindfolded,”. Her partner let out a chuckle.

“You do have a way of paintin’ an interestin’ picture... You sure it’s okay to get attached to all of them though? Sounds like you’re really startin’ to like ‘em,” he cautioned. Sombra popped her head through the neck of her tee and fluffed her hair back and out of the way.

“I do like them. They’re funny, and I like funny people,”. Her bedmate grunted. It almost sounded like he disapproved.

“They’re terrorists, darlin’. Killed a guy. Prominent businessman,” he reminded. Sombra waved away his concern.

“That’s a bit of a stretch... Hyde was a piece of shit who was trying to commit insurance fraud. Besides, neither of us has the right to criticize them, and you know it,” she countered. He combed his fingers through his hair and grumbled. She’d struck a nerve, which was intentional. Overall she liked the man, but he could be a hypocrite from time to time. She bent down to zip up her tall boots.

“What about the girl?”.

“Woman,”.

“Woman... She somebody I’ll need to worry about?”. Sombra snatched her earrings off the nightstand and started clipping them in place.

“She’s a bad fit for Talon, but no one realizes it yet... Her boss has her convinced she’s doing the right thing... She’s going to learn soon enough. I’m just hoping it doesn’t hurt her too bad when she figures it out,” she explained. He finally pushed himself fully upright, and climbed out of bed, quickly slipping into the bathroom. Sombra barely registered what he was actually doing in there. She was focused solely on the contents of her purse and their conversation.

“Well, let’s hope for her sake she figures it out soon. Boss wants to move in as soon as possible,” he warned before flushing the toilet. A glance at her wallet showed that she had indeed spent all the "tracer cash"; a test batch for future projects.

“Your boss. Not mine,” she reminded, “And I wouldn’t recommend making moves anytime soon. You’ll all get beaten to a pulp,”. The sound of the faucet could be heard.

“Hey now! Give us some credit,” he chuckled. Sombra glanced at her face in the mirror. Her makeup had managed to rub off on her pillow without smearing all over her face. At worst, she looked a little extra tired. She brought up her handset and examined her security tools and programs. The door opened back up, and, still nude, he strolled back out confidently. Instantly the heat returned to her cheeks, but she’d never give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

“I gotta’ take off. I’ll leave you with a proximity alarm,” she offered. He shrugged his shoulders, not really caring.

“Thanks, darlin’, but I’m good. Just toss me m’hat, would ya?” he requested with hands on hips, his head nodding to the little table nearby her. She grabbed the worn leather cowboy hat and tossed it to him. He caught it and popped it on his head; as though that were the only bit of apparel he’d ever need. She prepped her translocator to take her back to her motorcycle.

“Adios, cowboy,” she grinned and clicked the button.

 

  
**.           .           .           .           .**

 

  
“Fuck, you feel so good!” he gasped. Junkrat was on his back; his sheets twisted and balled up underneath him. His clothes had been tossed to the side somewhere, mingling with hers. Symmetra was perched on top of him, expertly pumping her hips up and down. Occasionally, she’d bring her lips to his neck and kiss and suck, and he swore if she turned out to be a vampire, he wouldn’t give a single fuck; not when it all felt that amazing. He’d just let her bleed him dry.

“Jaime... I’m going to...” she murmured, her voice husky and pleading.

“Gonna’ what?” he asked, his hearing beginning to fade in and out.

“I’m going to...” she whimpered.

“Gonna’ what?” he asked again because he couldn’t make out what she mumbled after that. The room was beginning to grow brighter.

“...going to,”.

“What?! You’re gonna’ what?!” he choked, his eyes popping open. Symmetra had vanished, or rather, the nude image that was grinding on top of him had, leaving him alone in bed. He wasn’t on his back with her straddling over top of him. He was on his stomach, his head turned to one side, shirtless, and his black denim pants pushed part way down, as though he’d fallen asleep midway through undressing (which was exactly what had happened).

“Fffffffuuuuggggh,” he groaned, feeling the light piercing his eyes, his throat painfully dry, his head pounding, his ears ringing, and his stomach flopping. So according to all the signs, his birthday must have been amazing! His memory was frustratingly muddled, though not from alcohol. He hadn’t had THAT much, had he? No, because he didn’t black out and he wasn’t already puking. Once again, his brain had mixed up his memories and dreams. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

And he knew the mix-up had happened, because the dream had Sym in it, and that would never have been the case in real life. He could definitely recall getting to the bar and the music that played in distinct detail. And there WAS a woman there who sat and drank and flirted with him. That part had to be at least partially true, because he let out a belch and could taste the whiskey sours he ordered, and he only drank those if he was trying to impress a lady. So there had been a woman, and he tried to impress her, and his stupid brain had overwritten her with Symmetra’s face. The more he thought about it, the more his brain hurt.

“Fffffuck,” he hissed and covered his eyes from the bright window light. _Sunglasses are... are... fuck me, I should just go back t’sleep._ But, try as he might, his body wouldn’t let him. And besides, he had a mystery on his hands. What actually did happen? He knew the lady in his dreams and hazy memories hadn’t come back to his room, because strangers were not permitted at Talon HQ.

He finally remembered where the sunglasses were, and he groped blindly under his bed for them. He popped them on, felt marginally better, and slowly pushed himself up. His shirt was wadded up on the pillow, and he shook it out before pulling it over his head. With a heavy sigh, he acknowledged that the story of the mystery woman would unfold later. It wasn’t a priority, and he knew Roadhog would help him fill in the gaps and untangle the stuff that did happen from the stuff that didn’t. _Wait a tic... CONDOMS!_

He quickly fumbled in his pockets for the one he’d brought along with him. He always made sure to bring one when he went out to bars, because who knew what sort of mischief he could get himself into? And he’d also seen enough nightmarish pictures in those medical books he’d read to ever convince himself to go without. In his back left pocket, he found his light blue bandanna. He didn’t recall that coming into play at any point in the night. Back right pocket? Empty. Front left? Condom. He shrugged and huffed with disappointment. The sex had only happened in his imagination. Out of habit, he tried the last pocket and found something odd. _Wait a tic?_ It was a small metal box with a bow, and he scratched his head before trying to open it.

It wouldn’t open up just by tugging on it, but after a moment he tried pushing the center of the bow. It worked, and the lid popped open. Inside were two keys on a ring. The upper parts were dipped in black silicone and embossed with a nautical star. They were too oddly shaped for a motorcycle, car, or doorknob, and he only grew more puzzled.

His hangover kicked up his sense of smell, and a whiff of a woman’s perfume caught his attention. He sniffed his shirt and it was emanating from him, and he started to think about the possibility that maybe a woman he’d cozied up with had brought a condom of her own. _Alright, sooooo... Fuck! What t’fuck happened?!_ The other bits he could worry about later, but if he somehow managed to fuck a woman, then dammit! He wanted to remember it! His mind had already managed to put Sym’s face on the unknown companion. Maybe his bedroom setting had been a mix-up as well and it had happened somewhere else, but the fact of the matter was there was a chance he’d actually gone through with it and had finally broken his frustratingly long dry spell!

_Hog. Hog. I need t’find Hog!_ He scanned the room and located his peg leg and boot on the floor next to the bed. After situating himself, he pushed himself up into a standing position, bracing himself against the wall. His body felt weakened and sore, but steady. He knew the pit had been active and he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d sustained a few bruises. The clock read 12:15. Hog was probably downstairs eating lunch.

His friend was there, reading a book amongst a few empty plates and glasses. Junkrat went through the lines of the hot cases, scooping up anything he saw that would be considered a hangover cure. That included two cups of coffee, three glasses of water, and anything that looked like it was deep fried. He took his seat next to Roadhog and downed the coffee without adding cream or sugar.

“Dusty?” Hog greeted.

“Yup,” he replied before draining the first glass of water. Coming into such a crowded area seemed like a bad idea right then. It was just one loud buzz mingling with the ringing in his ear. His brain scrambled up all of the questions he wanted to ask into one stupidly blunt sentence.

“Did I fuck someone last night?”. Hog slowly looked away from his page.

“Not unless y’managed t’find someone willin' in the ten minutes after y’left the hangar,” he answered with a shrug. Junkrat pondered what would be the next logical thing to ask while he stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth. The coffee, water, and food felt marvelous, and he temporarily didn’t give a shit about what happened. All his brain cared about were the calories, caffeine, and hydration. He tore through his food and drinks, and he leaned back against his chair, patting his stomach in content appreciation. The hangover was still there, but it eased up a little into something he could tolerate.

“Brain’s all scrambled. Mixin’ up dreams an’ memories. Think... think there was a woman there. A real looker,” he purposefully mumbled loud enough for his friend to hear. Roadhog dogeared the page and sat the book down.

“There was,” he rumbled. Junkrat’s eyebrows raised, curious.

“Hm!” he squeaked, and thought some more.

“What’d she look like?”.

“Long black hair. Pretty face. A mighty ass,” his friend said, focusing on the things he knew Junkrat would be interested in. _No wonder I mixed ‘er up in m’dream._

“What was ‘er name?” he asked, rubbing his chin. Hog shook his head no.

“She didn’t say her name,”. Junkrat scrunched his nose and scowled.

“Wot?”.

“Never came up in conversation,” Roadhog clarified.

“Mate, this is startin’ t’sound made up. Are you fuckin’ with me?”. Roadhog looked him dead in the eyes.

“Ain’t lyin’. Swear on m’mum. She never said her name,” he assured; Junker-code that meant they were being totally honest with each other.

“Well, did ya’ see us do somethin’? She give me her number’?”.

“Ya elbowed ‘er in th’nose an’ then kissed it,” Hog said, and Junkrat could hazily recall that. That had been after a few drinks when his memories became all woozy.

“As fer a number,” Hog continued, “Did y’check yer pockets?”. Junkrat shook his head in dismay.

“No number,” he said, “But I found this,”. He held out the box and popped it open. Hog tilted his head, curious.

“Didn’t see where y’got that from. Maybe y’nicked it?” he suggested and scratched his neck. He paused, and went back to staring Rat in the eyes, “But what about yer battle vest? That’s got pockets, too,”. It did! It DID! Junkrat stood up, looking around as though he could spot the vest from there.

“Wait... don’t remember seein’ it in m’room,”. Roadhog grabbed his book again.

“Y’took it off an’ stuffed it in th’side car b’fore we took off,” he said, helping Junkrat piece the last bit together. He pushed his chair in, waved to Hog, and started towards the secondary hangar.

The ride home... that had to be where his dreams and reality officially fused together. In his dreams, the mystery woman disguised as Sym road back with them. She sat on his lap and yelped after being poked by the spikes, and after taking it off, they’d ridden home. And then she walked back to his room and she’d kissed his cheek so gently... and then his lips not so gently... and then she kept kissing him, slowly pushing him back towards the bed, where she then shoved him back and started undressing.

Junkrat came to a stop just as he approached the hangar. He’d gone out the night before and spent some time with a woman who wasn’t Sym, and for some reason that he couldn’t explain, he felt guilty about that. There really wasn’t any reason WHY he felt that way. He and Sym were just friends, and honestly, it would have been good for him to find someone else, even if it was just for a night. But he’d purposefully flirted with a Symmetra look-alike, and it felt hollow and a little wrong somehow. Had he picked her just to be a place-holder? He grimaced at himself. At least it hadn’t gone too far since the woman hadn’t come back with them.

He gazed at the doors, scanned his palm, and entered the hangar. He still had a mystery on his hands, and though he doubted he’d come to any solid conclusions, he’d hate leaving a loose thread dangling. He walked by a fancy Femme Fatale and gave it a little nod of approval. He’d always wanted to drive one, but there was no way in hell that he could ever comfortably squeeze Roadhog inside it. Som’s motorcycle was out, and he recalled it was because she had given some man a ride home. Junkrat smirked to himself. She must have lucked out if she still hadn’t come back yet.

There sat the Mayhem Mobile, still looking lovely after its tune-up/overhaul. He leaned over the edge of the sidecar and pried open the seat to reveal the small storage compartment. Sure enough, his spiked vest was waiting for him. He pulled it out and gave it a shake before turning out the pockets. No napkins. No slips of paper. No matchbooks. Nothing. His last little shred of hope disappeared. She was just some stranger in a bar who was nothing more in his mind than a substitute for someone else. He pushed the seat back, frustrated and still hungover. He sought refuge in the dimly lit building. He clambered into the sidecar and stretched out his legs, only to bump up against something unfamiliar.

_Helmets? What th’fu-_ There were 3 of them; one hanging off Roadhog’s handlebars, and the other two nestled together in the sidecar! _Wait a tic!_ Three helmets! Three! His head snapped up, his eyes frantically darting as the pictures in his memory began to grow clearer. They locked onto the pair of jet-skis one row over. _Wait a tic!_ He spotted a nautical star logo that looked awfully familiar. His hand slightly trembling, he reached back into his pocket, and he pulled out the little box, revealing the keys once more with the matching logo. _WAIT A TIC!_ He fell out of the sidecar, scrambled to his feet, and ran as fast as his hungover body would allow. He needed to find Symmetra!

 

 

**.           .           .           .           .**

 

  
Symmetra woke up to an easily avoidable hangover, and she groaned at the previous night's poor decision. _That will be tomorrow's problem? Well... here's "tomorrow"._ Her stomach made several horrible sounds, and she crawled to the toilet to vomit. _Never on my life will I EVER drink that much AGAIN!_ The whiskey sours had been a terrible choice in beverage. At least with wine, she only would have woken up with a nightmarish headache. She staggered to get herself upright and rinse her mouth out.

"It is seven thirty, Agent Vaswani. Time to wake up," Ares reminded.

“Fuck off,” she spat.

“No need to be rude,” the computerized voice replied, and if she didn’t know any better, it almost sounded snippy. She crawled back to bed and curled up into the sheets and blankets. Cocooning herself away from the world never felt so good. _Was all my “fun” worth this misery?_ The hazy visions of smiling faces and laughter popped back up in her mind. _Perhaps._ Her nose tingled, reminding her of his chaste little kiss, and the one she’d placed on his cheek when they got home, and suddenly the hangover didn’t seem quite so insufferable. She nodded back off, hoping to sleep through some of her hangover. She would write the day off as a "sick day", and would stay in her room until her head didn't feel like it would split in two.

"It is nine thirty, Agent Vaswani. Will you be going to the lab today?". Her eyes instinctively popped back open while her heart raced with the sense of her running late.

"No," she croaked, her throat dry, "I'm feeling ill,".

"Looks like a hangover to me," the smarmy AI replied, "but you should know that Mr. Sanjay Korpal left you a video voicemail while you were asleep,". Symmetra sneered, not surprised that he'd choose such an inconvenient time to do so.

"Play it," she ordered, and a window floated over to her field of vision. Sanjay looked distressed and, dare she think it, worried.

"Max told me about what happened at the opera! Why didn't you tell me?! Call me as soon as possible!" he said, combed his hair back with his fingers, and the screen went blank. _Just like you to spoil a perfectly good morning._ All she wanted to do was try and enjoy the little snippets of happiness she’d glimpsed from the previous night while letting the physical misery she was experiencing to slowly fade away.

She pulled the blanket back over her head for a moment, frowned, and pulled it right back off. No! She could dwell on those sweet little kisses and embraces later. For now, duty called. She'd call Sanjay back, and she'd give him a piece of her mind! Just what exactly was going on at the housing projects? _But to do that, I must ready myself._

She slowly sat upright, feeling her own brain sloshing around in her head. She glanced down at herself, still dressed in Sombra’s clothes. She grimaced at the outfit, which looked a lot less sexy in daylight hours. She stumbled to the bathroom, nearly tripping over the knee-high boots she’d borrowed that had been a little too tight. _I’m bound to have blisters, I’m sure._ Glancing in her mirror, she frowned again at a proper sight of herself. Her smeared makeup combined with her attire was absolutely unacceptable. _I look like a cheap prostitute!_ No, that wouldn’t do at all.

She washed her face, making sure to scrub off every last bit of it. Underneath it, all was dry skin, dark puffy bags, and bloodshot eyes. _I’ll just stand a little further back from the camera._ She stripped down and grimaced as the smell of sweat and alcohol finally met her nose. She should have just showered, but how could she bring herself to walk down the halls of Talon HQ dressed so inappropriately?

After dressing and readying herself, she deemed her appearance acceptable enough to make the call, though her bedroom didn’t make the cut. She’d managed to clean herself well enough, but she didn’t have the strength in her to take care of her quarters. She stumbled towards the mess hall to get herself something to eat, and plenty of water to hopefully rehydrate. At that point, she felt like a sun-baked sponge. Having it be post-breakfast and pre-lunch, she had the cafeteria almost entirely to herself. Brunch for one, she supposed. It was just as well. She knew she wouldn’t be able to tolerate chatter and quickly made herself some dark-tinted eyewear to help cope with the needlessly bright lighting.

“Dear gods was this a bad idea,” she muttered to herself as she opened the lab door. She drained the last of her water bottle, and tossed it into the recycling bin.

“Ares, please call Sanjay Korpal,” she ordered.

“Ah! So you’ve made it in today after all,” Ares clucked, and brought up a hovering screen. Symmetra rolled her eyes, and wondered if Sombra had secretly augmented the AI with a new “sass” feature. She wouldn't put it past the hacker. She rubbed her eyes underneath her dark glasses and took them off. She winced at the bright light just as Sanjay answered.

“Vaswani!” he greeted, once again ready for bed in his pajamas and robe.

“Sanjay,” she said, returning the greeting, “You requested that I call you,”.

“Yes! I heard about Sunday’s... excitement. I’ve been wondering why you didn’t tell me,” he said, wearing an expression that neared a sense of worry. Perturbed, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“And I’ve been wondering why you didn’t tell me about the housing projects being sold. I thought they were supposed to be free for victims of the Favela fires,”. Sanjay’s eyes widened with surprise.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about! And, quite frankly, I’m a little more interested in the fact that my top agent was publicly attacked-,”.

“It wasn’t an attack. He was an unarmed protestor, and-,”.

“And just how did he know that a Vishkar employee would be attending the performance?” he interrupted, silencing her own, “Max did some investigating. One of the ushers there is part of their little... resistance. He alerted some of the others, and they were all about to gather. That man in particular was just the first to arrive,”. Her brow furrowed at the new development. _So my instincts weren't wrong. The security outside the VIP lounge really was watching me after all._

“Thank gods you weren’t alone! Who knows what might have happened! I’m seriously considering contacting Helix Security. See if their offer still stands,” he said. Her brow furrowed again.

“We wouldn’t need personal security if we hadn’t gone back on our offer to build the free housing,”. The glowing embers inside her flared to life, and the misery from last night’s whiskey only fanned the flames. Sanjay sat in silence, gauging her fierce eyes, and she prayed that he didn't notice how red they were.

“We held up our end of the bargain. The construction is well underway. You no doubt saw it upon your drive in. Vishkar hasn’t taken a single penny from anyone. We gifted it to good upstanding real estate firms; not that slum lord they were enslaved to before,”. _Oh?_ She hadn’t been prepared for that answer.

“They... were meant for the people, though,” she murmured.

“And they still are. It will all come trickling down eventually. It is just going to take a little longer than expected, what with all the protesters slowing construction down,” he explained, “You understand of course. Everything will fall into order, so long as people actually let it,”. Symmetra bit the inside of her cheek, still not feeling entirely appeased. Vishkar WAS setting things in order, as they always did, but there was still a sinking feeling in her stomach.

“Where are the people staying now?”. She’d been gone for so long, it was easy to lose track of current events. Sanjay slid his hands into the pockets of his robe.

“Why, in your refugee tents, of course. I’ve even heard that the people there are already thankful to have such nice accommodations. They may even feel reluctant to leave them,”. Flattered that her secondary-school final project was still being utilized, she unfolded her arms and let them hang at her sides.

“They’re only tents, Sanjay,” she reminded.

“Yes! Tents that are weatherproofed for their climate, completely solar-powered with self-filtering water, and even equipped with access to internet communications! You’ve given them everything they could ever need,” he said, and while she still felt flattered, the fire in her hadn’t died.

“They still need walls, sir,”. Sanjay rubbed his chin and then hid a yawn behind the back of his hand.

“Like I said, we’re working on it... Are you alright, though? I just want to make sure he didn’t hurt you or upset you too badly,” he said, a note of concern attached to his voice. She shook her head dismissively.

“I’m fine, sir. Truly,” she assured. Sanjay yawned again, and she realized how tired he must have been, given the hour she'd called.

“That’s good to hear. Listen, Vaswani, I’m glad you’re alright, but it’s late and I must go to sleep now. Take care,” he said, and it was only then that she noticed the shadow of a woman behind him. _Oh! He's... entertaining..._ The screen darkened before she could even utter a single syllable. _Well... At least now I can go back to bed. Everything is back to normal, I suppose... But why do I feel so defeated?_

She blamed it on the alcohol. Drinking so heavily had to be the source for her current mental state. She'd gone into the call with fire and determination. She wanted Sanjay to be the culprit behind it all; an easy explanation to the consistently sinking sensations and red flags. But why? Why would she want such a thing? Despite his faults, she'd always considered him a friend of some sort, if not a mentor. No matter what happened, he remained ever loyal to Vishkar and its mission. His job was to make the tough decisions that others were too weak to make. For once, she had lost sight of that. _How silly of me... The ends will justify the means. They have to._

Her phone chirped, alerting her that she'd received a text message, and she directed it to a larger screen. Next to Moira's avatar (a rather animated sketch of her that she said she'd commissioned from an artist) read a message:

**I'm nearly ready to show you my work. Let's schedule a walkthrough of my lab soon. I'm eager to see what you think.**

**< 3**

_What are these... Oh! It's supposed to be a heart._ And suddenly her morning grew even worse. She shouldn't have gone out. She should have stayed in. At least then she could deal with the looming issues with a clear mind. _Why did I think it was a good idea? To satisfy my own ego? To prove myself as being “fun”?!_ Regardless, she'd have to speak with Moira soon. The doctor's intentions and feelings were undeniable, and the longer she went without directly refuting her, the worse the situation could potentially become. She grabbed her phone to view her schedule, but Ares interrupted her actions.

"Agent Vaswani, Mr. Ogundimu is heading this way. He needs to speak with you concerning an upcoming mission,". _Mission? What mission?_ There weren't any scheduled that she'd take part in, as far as she knew. She supposed he could be asking for her professional opinion and advisement. Her only wish was that she could have just a few more hours for her head to stop pounding and her stomach to stop churning, but fate was being downright spiteful.

Akande didn't bother to knock. Several minutes ticked by, the lab door slid open, and his massive frame took up the entire entry. Sym scrambled off her seat to a standing position, hoping he wouldn't mention her dark lenses. He himself was sporting a pair while clad in an ivory tailored suit and holding a paper coffee cup. _Maybe he's hungover, too?_ She could only smile internally at her own musing.

"I need to keep this quick. I'm grossly behind schedule," he growled.

"That wouldn't be because of a hangover, would it?” Ares piped, and Akande sneered.

“I see Sombra has made some adjustments to the personality settings,” he said and sipped his coffee.

“I noticed that as well,” Symmetra remarked. He nodded, strolled over to her stool, and took a seat while motioning for her to do the same. Symmetra eyed the only other stool in the room. It was duct taped, dirty, and property of Junkrat. She wrinkled her nose, constructed a more acceptable seat, and crossed one knee over the other. She pulled her glasses off for good measure. She’d rather have bloodshot eyes than be observed wearing sunglasses or visors, but that didn’t stop her from wincing in the light.

“Ugh... You and I both seem to be on the same page today. Misery loves company... Don’t worry. I don’t give a shit. Put your glasses back on,” he started while pinching the bridge of his nose. _So I am not the only person to overindulge last night?_ With neither of them needing to keep up with the pretenses of sobriety, she let her posture slump a little while sliding the frames back on.

“How can I help you, sir?” she tried. Akande rummaged through his jacket pocket and pulled out his handset. He tapped the screen, pulling up a window with the picture of a man. His dark hair was pulled up into a short tail, and a few grays streaked at his temples. A neatly trimmed goatee circled his mouth, which was pulled into an intense frown.

“I’m going to keep this brief. If you have any questions or concerns, you can express them later,” he began, and pointed at the picture, “This is Hanzo Shimada; former leader of the Shimada family crime syndicate. He currently makes a living offering his services as a bit of a mercenary and assassin. I’ve been trying to convince him to join Talon for months now, but he has proven to be somewhat stubborn,”. The latter portion of his introduction ended with a growl in his throat, and she nearly began to sweat. _Oh gods! Please tell me he’s not sending me to... assassinate this man?!_

“I’ve tried appealing to his ego, but I don’t seem to be getting through to him. I wonder if someone else with a more delicate touch and pragmatic business sense might be able to,”. Symmetra exhaled an internal sigh of relief that he wasn’t blatantly ordering her initial assumption.

“He’s currently operating out of London, and as usual, he’s flying solo. Seems he’s still dodging assassins from what’s left of the Shimada syndicate,” Akande said and motioned towards a screen, bringing up a map from a section of the city.

“It occurred to me that we haven’t exactly utilized your leadership skills and talents properly, and I wish to change that. I want you to put together a team, and go to London to persuade him. The team would only be for your protection. I don’t anticipate him putting up a fight, but should that arise...” he explained and then shrugged. _Ah. Bodyguards then?_

“A team of my own? When do you wish for us to depart?” she asked. Akande sipped his coffee.

“Saturday, which is why I’m telling you this now. I wanted to give you some time to formulate a plan and select your team. No more than five. I worry that bringing too many along will send him the wrong message,” he replied. She nodded her head.

“Consider it done,”. He smiled at her quick response, and slowly stood back up with a groan.

“That is good to hear. I know you will succeed,” he said and drained the last bit of his coffee. He tossed the cup into the recycling bin.

“I’ll send you his dossier and everything I have on him after I return from the gym. I need to sweat this out. For now, I ask that you keep this as quiet as possible. Not everyone agrees with my opinions of him,” he said, shook her hand, and left as quickly as he came. The door slid shut and she rubbed her pained forehead (relieved though she was). Here she had worried he’d lecture her upon her lack of professionalism concerning going out and drinking in excess, but instead, he’d dangled a rather enticing opportunity in front of her. A simple mission; a business negotiation, rather. This was a project she could get behind. And with everything of importance completed for the day, she could FINALLY return to her room and relax.

"A Vishkar courier has arrived with a package for you. He is waiting in the main atrium," Ares announced.

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF... I'll be down in a moment," she snapped and rubbed her temples. She'd completely forgotten about the hardlight lens.

Just as Ares had said, the courier sat in the atrium, scanning through his phone with a metal case at his side. He’d even gone so far as to cuff it to his wrist, which was ridiculous, as he’d taken a private jet to get there. The added precaution was likely due to the close proximity to Rio and... him. _That man- No! That BOY! Stealing Vishkar technology and claiming it to be his! He WOULD want a hardlight lens, wouldn’t he?!_

She took the package from the man, signed her name, and went right back to the lab to drop it off. She’d wait for her head to clear up, and her body to stop aching before finding Junkrat to schedule a practice session. She kept the door open, merely wanting to take a minute to look it over before she left. As she sat the case down, she scanned her thumb over the lock and it popped right open. Amongst the black foam padding rested the glove-like apparatus and simple battery pack: a basic design, but it would work perfectly for their lessons. She carefully lifted it upwards to inspect it and hoped it would be big enough to fit over his large hands.

The mere thought of him brought back the memories that she’d temporarily shelved; the ones that had been so rudely interrupted by headaches, dizziness, nausea, Ares, Sanjay, Moira's text message, Akande, and the courier. She laid it back into its little cutout as gently as possible with the crystal circle facing upward. Instinctively, she ran the tip of her finger along the edge, circling its circumference. _His hand..._

She had shoved his gift into his palm, and he had beamed with pure joy at the very concept that someone wanted to willingly give him something. For someone as greedy as him, he still had an amazing sense of appreciation, and not only did he appreciate the gift, but her as well. He smiled at her without any intention behind it. In all the months they’d worked together, he never insulted her intellect. He never once called her naive, nor insinuated she was less of a person for the way she was born. He was fun and considerate and affectionate and... _And now isn’t the time for this. I still have to deal with Moira, and it certainly wouldn’t look good on my part to be seen with him in a romantic fashion until I clear the air with her... And there goes my head pounding again._

The pounding sound, however, wasn’t in her head. It was coming down the hall, rapidly approaching the lab. _Oh... Oh, I think I know who that is._ She popped her head out of the doorway to confirm her suspicion, and the confirmation smacked right into her, knocked her to the ground and collapsed right on top of her!

  
**.           .           .           .           .**

  
_Sym! Sym! I gotta’ find Sym!_ He started by hobbling down the halls towards the women’s dormitories, rounded the corner, and then immediately rounded right back the way he came because Moira was walking towards the main corridor! _Nope! Nope! I am too fuckin’ red-eyed and bushy tongued t’deal with her!_ She stopped right towards the end of the hall and paused, looked at her phone, frowned, and left in the opposite direction as him. After getting his shaken heart to restart, he sprinted to Sym's door, gave it a couple loud knocks, and waited for her to answer.

“Hm. Agent Vaswani is popular today,” a metallic voice noted. Junkrat gave a start at the computer’s observations, and then doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees.

“Fuck I fergot you exist,” he remarked, and Ares gave a little sigh.

“Oh great. Another one of last night’s drunks,” the computer snipped, “Agent Vaswani isn’t here. She’s in the lab,”.

“Oh! Erm, thanks!” he clipped, turned again, and continued to run towards Ares’s suggestion.

He didn’t know WHY he was running. It seemed like a stupid thing to do, considering he was still feeling like shit from all the sugar-bomb drinks, but Symmetra had actually kissed him! ...probably ...maybe. Perhaps that had been part of the dream, too, but maybe not? He needed to know, or else he’d suffer and anguish about it forever.

It wasn't just that she may have kissed him. It was the whole night; the foggy snippets of them flirting, the special way it made him feel, the butterflies and lighthearted sensations. She was so damn funny, and smart, unexpectedly generous, considerate, and even adventurous. She had come all that way (undoubtedly breaching her comfort zone) just to celebrate something as inconsequential as his birthday. She had sat on his lap for the ride home, allowing him to hold her close and feel her warmth for the first time, and he had loved every damn second of it. He wasn't just lusting after her body. He was falling head over heels for her... and she may have shown signs of feeling the same way about him! He practically slid across the tile as he approached the open doorway, gripped the frame, and lunged forward, only to tackle her to the ground!

“Fffffuuuuck,” he groaned. She made some sounds of her own, and while he loved the idea of her moaning beneath him, he didn’t want it to be in that fashion. He scrambled to roll off of her and flopped onto his back at her side.

“Sorry! Sorry... You alright?” he grunted while looking up at the ceiling and squinted from the bright lights above him. He'd lost his sunglasses in the tackle and patted around for them.

“No. I am miserably sick and have vowed to never drink whiskey again,” she snipped and struggled to get back onto her feet. Junkrat let out a couple chuckles tainted with physical distress and slowly sat up. After finding his glasses, he pulled himself onto his stool and leaned back against the table top. The accidental tackling knocked a little sense into him, or rather, humbled him enough to stop him from blurting all the thoughts that had bounced around in his head on his way over.

"I can see from the glasses you are wearing that you are also in the same state of affairs as I am," she stated. Junkrat bobbed his head yes.

"Yeeeeeeaaaaaah, sorry. Got t'that point where I just thought more sours meant more fun, an' then I thought, y'know, why not share th'fun?" he said, allowing a couple more chuckles to escape him. Sym was wearing a dark visor, shielding her eyes, but it didn't stop her from dressing as though it was a typical workday.

"So why're you here?" he prodded. She turned back around, fiddling with a metal case before her that he had just noticed existed.

"Believe me. There is nothing I'd like more than to remain in bed the rest of the day, but I've had some rather persistent obligations pop up this morning. At this point, I may as well work the rest of the day," she explained while closing the case and locking it back up. Junkrat scratched his head, wondering how to go about striking up the conversation. She twisted in her seat and powered up her computer.

"Listen. About last night..." he started, but the words caught in his dry throat, temporarily incapable of escaping. Her head turned to the side, displaying the perfect profile of her face framed by raven-black hair. A holographic display popped up with a miniature diorama of a cityscape.

"Yes?" she asked, her eyes not quite meeting his. He squinted his eyes shut. _Just fuckin' say it._

"I... my dreams... th'sours," he stammered, and shook his head to hopefully jumble things in the right order, "My brain did that thing again. Mucked things up. Not like when you black out. Just... it might've mixed up some things I dreamed with what really happened. Was kinda' hopin' you could fill in th'blanks. Hog weren't much help,". Slowly she turned to face him, crossed one leg over the other, laced her fingers together, and rested them on her knee.

"Very well... Let's start from the beginning and what you remember for certain," she said. Junkrat's eyes flicked upward to the ceiling while he mulled it all over. He didn't want to blurt "I dreamed we fucked. Did that actually happen?", because Sym was a classy lady and that just wasn't the sort of thing you'd say to a classy lady.

"Well... I know I went t'the bar with Hog. An' then you an' Som showed up?".

"We did," she confirmed. Now came for a particularly awkward question.

"An' you were... tryin' t'blend in?". In spite of his dark glasses, he could see color rising to her cheeks, and she quickly looked down at her hands.

"Yes... per Sombra's suggestion, I borrowed some clothes from her," she answered with a nod.

"An' we had a few drinks-,".

"We had a LOT of drinks," she corrected with something that sounded like an incredulous snicker. From there he began to piece the scenes together into some semblance of order.

"You... showed me a card trick," he muttered, rubbing his chin, and then his eyebrows shot up in surprise as another scene popped up.

"Oh my god! I showed you a trick too, didn't I?". Sym's lips pulled into a taut line, and she was definitely blushing and desperately trying to gaze upon something other than him.

"Yes... you did," she acknowledged. He recalled her seeming very impressed at the time and considering her current body language, perhaps she still was. That certainly inflated his ego. _Oh! OH!_ He cleared his throat, hoping to save that particular thought to dwell upon later.

"We were leavin', but Som left without ya'," he recalled. Symmetra nodded.

"See... that's where things really get muddled,". Her fingers dug into the fabric of her gray slacks, and she gnawed on her bottom lip.

"I... I rode home with you and Roadhog... in the sidecar. I... helped you to your room. And then, just before I left...". Her voice trailed off for a moment, and she snapped her eyes shut. He waited for her to continue, but the silence stretched for too long. She was never going to admit it. Not so openly, anyway. No, they hadn't slept together, but she had kissed him, and although it was an innocent little peck, it had meant something to her. _Think it means somethin' t'me, too._

"S'alright, Sym. Think I got it straightened back out," he said, an assuring smile crossing his face. Now it was his turn to ask perhaps the hardest question of all.

"Did, ah..." he stalled. _Just fuckin' say it, you bloody coward._

"Yes?" she asked, her gold eyes glimmering from behind smoke-colored lenses. _SAY IT!_

"Look... I know it was just a little one, but was it... just th'drinks talkin', or... or is there more to it?". Her fingers curled back up. Perhaps she was fighting the urge to hide as much as he was. Maybe she was just scared to say it. Or maybe she was about to give him an answer he wouldn't want to hear.

"A little of both, actually," she murmured.

"What's that mean?". Sym stood up, clasped her hands behind her back, and began to pace through the lab.

"It means exactly as implied. There... I think there is something there, Junkrat, but I would not have kissed you were it not for the alcohol. I believe it loosened some inhibitions on my part. I'm... sorry. I crossed a line, and have strained our working relationship, and I-,".

"I don't give a shit about that!" he shot before he could stop himself. Sym's head whipped over towards him, her eyes wide. His hand began to tremble, and he tried to hide it by stuffing them both into his pockets.

"Just nice t'know I ain't the only one feelin' somethin'... I like ya', Sym. Lot more than a guy like me probably should,". There! He said it! He finally fucking said it, and a massive weight was lifted off his chest and he didn't know whether to jump for joy or vomit in the rubbish bin next to the filing cabinet.

"I see... Junkrat... This is..." she stammered.

"What? This is what?". Her eyes snapped back shut, and she took in a steadying breath.

"It's-,".

"Incoming call from Doctor O'Deorain!" Ares loudly interrupted while a beeping tone sounded, bringing reality crashing back down around him. A video window popped up, displaying the still image of Moira's face and stern gaze; her eyes practically staring daggers at him. Symmetra tore her glasses off and buried her face behind both of her hands.

"Really bad timing,".


	17. Ch 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Junkrat fills Hog in on what happened between him and Sym, and is later surprised when she asks him to help her on a mission. Symmetra gives him his first lesson in Hardlight. Sombra and Sym unwind with some TV, and later, Hanzo gets under Symmetra's skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies in advance. I can't say this is my best work. I had a lot of necessary scenes that needed to transpire before the next chapter, but I was having difficulty linking them together. 
> 
> ...Think of this as a mid-season clips episode ;)

Junkrat almost considered eavesdropping on Sym and Moira’s conversation, but the moment the door shut behind him, he learned that the lab was more soundproofed than he’d realized. _Maybe that’s why they stuffed me down here..._ He thought back on the first day they’d arrived at Talon and he'd tried setting up shop in the main hangar. One little strand of firecrackers went off in his pocket, everyone scattered, and the next thing he knew he had his own workshop far away from the more expensive pieces of equipment and transportation. It was very generous of the organization.

The curiosity of what transpired after he left festered in his head for a few hours. He’d spoken with her, confessed his feelings, and just as she was starting to return it all, that witch came swooping in riding a video screen instead of a broom! It was emotional cock-blocking was what it was! And he supposed the new sensation he was experiencing would be called emotional blue balls. He didn’t dare go back to his room. The room was where the magazine was, and he knew he would do something stupid, like read it all over again. With his two personal spaces unavailable to him, he decided to go find Roadhog, whom he found sitting along the mirrored wall of the practice ring. Hog acknowledged him with a nod, and Junkrat plopped down on the bench next to him. There were men sparring in the middle, with a handful of onlookers cheering them on here or there.

“Thought you were hungover,” Hog rumbled.

“Still am, but got nowhere to go an’ nothin’ t’do,” he said, still feeling a dull ache behind his tired eyes, and his sensitive nose picking up the almost overwhelming aroma of sweat and testosterone. At least his stomach wasn’t churning anymore.

“You figgered out what happened last night, roight?”. Junkrat bobbed his head yes.

“You’re a cheeky bastard, you know that?” he chuckled. Roadhog hadn’t lied a single bit, but he definitely led him on a bit of a goose-chase for the answers he was looking for.

“You two were too drunk t’fuck. You know it. Still curious ‘bout what you two did do when I let ya find yer way back, though,” his bodyguard admitted. Junkrat leaned back against the smudged mirrors, lacing his fingers behind his head.

“She planted a little one,” he grinned while tapping the spot on his cheek, “riiiiiiiight here,”. Roadhog gave a little “hmph” of pleasant surprise and held his fist up. The two gave a little bump, and they went back to watching the match finish. The shorter of the two fighters in the ring had made a quick tap to his opponent’s gut, bringing an official end to it all. He was declared the victor, and they patted each other on the shoulder out of respect.

“She remember that too?” he wondered. Junkrat’s face flushed, and he turned his head away from Hog.

“Yeah. Found her. Had a little chat... think she liked doin’ it,”. He could see his own reflection in the mirror behind him out of the corner of his eye, and he noted that he was smiling stupidly. He didn’t care.

“Jesus Christ...” Roadhog said, his voice ending with a deep and hearty laugh. It drew everyone’s attention for a moment before they turned back to the next match that was about to begin.

"Then what?" he asked, prodding Junkrat for more details. His friend had told him before that he liked gossip, and it was growing more and more apparent.

"Er... nothin', actually... She got a call, so I left," he replied but thought about his answer some more.

"You watch all those mushy movies an' shit... What's it mean when a lady says it's really bad timin'?". Hog's head slowly turned to regard him, tilting curiously.

"Means different things fer different people, Rat. Sometimes it's just a tasteful lie t'get outta' somethin' b'fore it goes too far," he answered, and Junkrat's heart gave a nasty lurch. Was that it? Had he put her on the spot, and she panicked? All the enjoyment from the night before, coupled with his detective work in the morning and early afternoon hours had blocked out the images of Moira almost completely, and he’d forgotten entirely that the two had gone on a proper date only a couple days prior.

"But sometimes it just means they got other shit they gotta' sort out first. Means they wanna' enjoy whatever it is, but life don't always make it that easy," he continued to explain, and leaned closer to his face until glassy black disks stared him in the eyes, "Important thing to remember is... has she ever lied to ya b'fore?". He paused and thought about it. As far as he could recall from the scrambled mess in his head, she hadn't. In fact, Symmetra was typically straightforward in the things she liked and disliked, recalling the way she directly stated how she didn’t like his messy room. He shook his head no. Hog leaned back with ease and sighed. He laced his fingers together, resting them on his ample tattood belly.

"You managed t'find someone. Real eleven outta' ten kinda' lady, an' I say this fer yer own good, cause I know how you get sometimes... Don't push your luck. Give 'er some space t'figger her shit out, roight?".

The start of Junkrat's twenty-sixth year certainly held a lot of surprises for him. Sym had come to his party. She enjoyed his company. She'd ridden back with him, sitting on his lap. He'd held her tight, and felt her kiss. And when asked about it all? She never denied it. He was on the brink of something significant changing in his life, and a year ago that thought might have frightened him. But he wasn't afraid, and the surprises only continued when a small knock echoed through his bedroom door later that night. The person standing in his doorway was her, and instantly his heart began to race.

"We need to talk. It's important," she said. _Important? IMPORTANT?!_ His mind began to race with a million possibilities and daydreams. He nodded slightly confused at her sudden appearance at his door and invited her in with a head tilt. She couldn't suppress the grimace at the mess in his personal space, but he shrugged it off. She’d seen it before, after all. He sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for her to speak.

"This afternoon, be-before our conversation," she started, tripping over her own words, "Akande came to see me. He has asked me to lead a team on a covert mission in London,". Junkrat's eyebrows darted upward in response at the unexpected opening statement.

“Oh! Was that what your call with Moira was about?” he asked, fishing for a possible in on what they spoke of. Hell, maybe it was worth a try!

“No, that was about scheduling a tour of her lab. She will not be a part of this operation. It is a small one. Nothing of too much consequence. I am to locate and speak with a potential Talon ally and am allowed to bring a small team along with me for personal protection. I've already spoken with Sombra about it. She has agreed to fly us out there and help me locate him. I was hoping I could trust you with bodyguard duty," she stated. Once again, his eyebrows shot up, and he looked around his room as though she could have been asking someone else.

"Me?" he piped while pointing at himself. Symmetra, still dressed the part of a businesswoman, stifled something that sounded like a chuckle or sigh of exasperation.

"Yes. You and Roadhog. I prefer traveling with people I know and trust,". _Know an' trust?!_

"Yeah! Yeah, I can do that!" he instantly agreed, elated at the idea of her selecting him for the job where the doctor wouldn’t be present. She gently smiled, and his stomach filled with butterflies all over again.

"Good," she said and handed him a folder that had been tucked up under her arm, "This is the pertinent information. I need you to look it over... I can't stress this enough, Junkrat. This is very important to me,". He carefully took the cardstock folder from her hand and sat it on his bed next to him.

"Don't worry. I'm your man fer th’job, Sym. Promise!" he agreed with a happy smile.

“Junkrat... Please remember to study the details I’ve provided. I don’t wish to be rude. It’s just, this is sort of a test for both of us. I’ll be proving my leadership and planning skills, and for you, it’s a way to make up for what happened in Oasis. If there’s another slip-up, I won’t be able to make another bargain for silence,”.

“Bargain?”. _What the hell’s she talkin’ about?_

“Yes... Moira wanted to report you. I asked her to keep quiet about what happened. She agreed to in exchange for a night out. I fulfilled my end of the bargain on Sunday,” she informed. Junkrat remained speechless, incapable of responding to her. He remembered how she had vouched for him, saving his sorry hide, but he didn't know had it pinned her to the doctor’s side.

“Thanks... M’sorry I fucked up. You didn’t have t’do that, Sym,” he quietly murmured.

“And you didn’t have to put your life at risk to save me, Junkrat. That’s one of the reasons why I trust you,” she reminded, “And I’m trusting you now to prevent a repeat of Oasis. Please study this thoroughly. If you have questions, I’ll gladly answer,”. He held his hand up to silence her.

“I already told ya’, Sym. I’m your man,” he replied, and he meant every word of it.

He proved himself by reading every word in the six-page file every day, and GOD it was tedious. He read up on the person of interest: a man named Hanzo Shimada. He’d attempted to kill his brother, blah blah blah, left the crime syndicate, blah blah blah, now living on the run as an assassin... _Okay, that’s kinda’ cool... but I’m gonna’ have to fuckin’ kill him if he tries t’hurt ‘er._ While the guide was boring, Roadhog made for a fantastic study partner, and by the time they boarded Sombra’s little plane, he’d practically had the damn thing memorized. It was no small feat for him.

“Can this ship really travel from here to London in only six hours?” Symmetra wondered as she buckled herself into the seat next to Sombra’s. Junkrat and Roadhog settled in towards the back; a little table bolted to the floor between them. The pilot flicked on a few switches. The navigation computer flickered to life, and she tapped at a few different settings. The crew out on the runway cleared away so she could take off.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I made a few modifications last month. One of your competitors offered it to me... in exchange for the destruction of some interesting things I found poking through their security feed,” she answered, grinning deviously. Symmetra frowned but said nothing, and Junkrat chuckled to himself. The takeoff was rough. He supposed he’d never really get used to it, but it was worlds better than hitching the ride on the commercial shipping vessel across the Atlantic. Seasickness was the one thing he’d never joke about again.

After leveling out and settling into cruising altitude, everyone unwound and unbuckled, but Junkrat found himself instantly bored. Six hours didn’t seem like such a long time on paper, but everyone else had brought a form of entertainment save for him. He bounced his knee, studied the clouds, ticked his fingers on his armrest, and tried recalling the file from memory.

“Are we there yet?” he grumbled, and Roadhog grunted an exasperated sigh.

“Been thirty-seven minutes,”. His eyes narrowed and he looked back out of the window. His knee bounced some more.

“You are bored?” Symmetra called from the cockpit, amplifying her voice so as to carry to the back.

“...yeah...” he reluctantly answered. She turned in her seat looking over her shoulder and seemed to be coming up with an idea.

“I brought along something, but I was planning to surprise you with it after the mission is complete,” she said, and the offer was tempting.

“Fer me?” he chirped. Sombra’s head twitched slightly to her right to look at Sym, and he could almost sense Hog’s observations of the situation.

“Yes,” she replied and got out of her seat. Crouching down, she reached underneath a control panel, where a metal case was strapped down. After freeing it, she brought it over to his table.

“I’m sorry Roadhog. Would you mind trading seats with me? It will require the use of the table,” she politely requested. Hog bobbed his head yes and did as asked, which floored Junkrat. Usually, his bodyguard was obstinate and rude (or maybe that was just with him). _S’pose Hog always had a bit of a soft spot fer ladies... Well, save fer one._ Symmetra took her place, nearly sinking into the imprint Hog had left behind in the seat.

There wasn’t quite a lot of privacy on the small aircraft, but if one spoke in quiet voices at one end, the people at the other end could pretend they didn’t hear with some degree of plausible deniability. She sat the case on the table and popped the locks and lid. Nestled in the foam was a glove with a hard disk in the palm, and it looked an awful lot like Sym’s glossy metallic hand.

“Is this...”.

“It’s a training-level gauntlet. After last Friday’s display, I requested one for you. I figured you’d be interested in some lessons,” she explained. Junkrat’s heart beat a little faster at the thought of her, well, thinking about him. She trusted him as a friend with a skill she held incredibly dear and she was trusting him to protect her, and the thought of it all brought him a sense of joy he’d never quite experienced before.

“Yeah! Yeah! Show me!” he said, incapable of stopping himself from happily beaming at her. She carefully removed the gauntlet from its padding, cradling it in her palms. He held out his left hand but she shook her head.

“No, this would be better over your prosthetic. It will be easier if you can actually feel the sensations from the hard light, and since you don’t have any neural sensors in yours, we’ll have to fit it over this,”. Junkrat switched hands, and she tugged the device overtop. It was a snug fit, and due to the metal joints and knuckles, she had to pinch and pull to adjust it, but it finally slid on. She clicked the outer ring circling the lens, and it lit up. A yellow light emanated, and though he couldn’t actually feel it, he could almost sense a humming vibration coursing through his metal limb.

“It’s yellow,” he noted, looking at her own blue light.

“This is the default setting. Would you like perhaps a different color?” she asked.

“Can we make it orange? I like orange,” he requested.

“Of course!” she replied, “Push the outer ring down, and twist it clockwise until you reach a color you like,”. He did as she instructed, and the light transitioned through the spectrum. It changed from green, then blue, indigo, violet, red, and back around to orange.

“And turning it counterclockwise adjusts the shade of it from dark to light,” she added, and he twisted it until he got it to just the right tone; bright and obnoxious.

“Now what?” he asked, eager to give it a go. Sym grabbed his hand and led it over his palm.

“Try focusing on the center until you can almost make out the individual particles of light. If you have to squint your eyes, try it. Once you think you can, pinch it in an area that looks concentrated, and pull upwards,” she instructed. He narrowed his eyes, blurring everything around him, and after a minute or so, he thought he could almost make out what she’d described. He pinched, but as he brought his fingers together, the elusive little cloud separated, evading his grasp.

“Wiley little bastard ain’t ya?” he grumbled. He felt a gentle pressure on his forearm. Sym’s fingers gripped around him, and slowly guided him a little to the right side of the lens.

“I spent ages twelve through eighteen perfecting this craft. Do not discourage yourself. It will come with time... Try again,” she coaxed, and he went back to squinting his eyes and trying to ignore the fact that she was sitting very close and how something as simple as eye contact might be all he’d need to convince himself to try kissing her right then and there. _“Really bad timing”... shit._ He tried to grasp at what turned out to be nothing.

Again and again, he tried and failed. He’d snort or grumble with each unsuccessful attempt, but he was stubborn and kept going back to it with renewed determination. He was going to do it, dammit, and he’d impress the hell out of her (and himself too, for that matter). After a half hour of attempting, he gave it one more go and finally found success when he instead tried more of a scooping sensation over a simple snapping pinch. Delighted, he pulled it upward, and it stretched in such a way as to look like a ribbon of ethereal smoke.

“There you are! You have the motion figured out, and that is often the hardest part, as it’s a little different for everyone. Now you just need to focus on turning it into a more solid form,”. Symmetra’s voice was soft and encouraging, and it made him want to continue his lesson.

“Many people try to think of light as water because it is not solid. But as you’ll see, that is not entirely true. On your next grasp, I want you to think of it as... a rubber band! Once you get ahold of it, you’ll need to pull it taut. Can you envision that?”.

“I... I think so,” he replied and scooped it up all over again. Just as he managed to clasp it, he steadied his breath, and tugged upwards with a snap... and a thin orange strand trailed a path from his fingertips to his palm!

“You are a quick learner, Junkrat. It took most of my classmates a day and a half to progress as quickly as you have. One could even say you have a good... _grasp_ on the concept,” she grinned, and he chuckled at the terrible joke.

“Yeah, I tend ta... pick things up quickly!” he winked.

With a little more practice, he had learned how to pull multiple lines at once, bend and shape them, and connect them into simple solid forms. It was mesmerizing and enthralling, and the lesson ended when he successfully finished creating an orange octahedron. The sampling was small, but Symmetra looked at it with wonder and appraised it.

“Eight sides... equal measurements on all sides... Hmm... an acceptable token for your hard work,” she said, holding it back out to him. Junkrat reached out to retrieve it from her but hesitated.

“You should keep it!” he said “you know... ‘cause you’re a good teacher. 'Sides... worried I might lose it,”. His palm began to sweat at the fib. In all honesty, he just liked the idea of giving her something he made with his own two hands.

“Your sentiment is appreciated Junkrat, but this is an accomplishment, and you deserve a reminder of it... Perhaps if you made it into a charm. It is small enough. You could attach a hoop to it and hang it from something of yours so you’ll never lose it,” she suggested. She reached back out, clasping his metal hand and bringing it towards her.

“May I?” she asked, and he shrugged his agreement because honestly, he wasn’t sure what she had in store. Quickly, she worked over his gauntlet, and a moment later the octahedron had a little clasp connected at the top. She left it in his hand and smiled at him.

“A fruitful end to your first lesson,”. It wasn’t until Sombra cleared her throat that he even remembered that there were two other people riding with them! He’d been utterly absorbed in his tutoring, and was amazed at how late it was! They’d be landing soon and would get set up in their hotel for the day while Sombra ran her tracking programs and equipment. Symmetra offered her assistance in pulling the gauntlet back off and secured it back in its case.

“Hey! Ummm,” he blurted, the words leaving his mouth before he thought them through, “Could I keep it? I mean, take it with me to my room t’night? Maybe practice a little more?”. Symmetra’s lips pulled taut and thin, and her brow furrowed.

“Please?” he added, hoping it would sway her. Her hands pulled back from the handle and top, and she looked into his eyes.

“I suppose you may,” she allowed and handed the case over. He wrapped his fingers around the handle, but she didn’t let go. In fact, she was still staring at him with an uneasy look on her face.

"You will promise to take care of it, correct? I can not risk this becoming damaged or lost,".

“I promise ya Sym! Nothin’s gonna’ happen to it! Wouldn’t want t’let you down,” he assured, and she finally released her grip.

 

**.           .           .          .           .**

 

“He goes there almost every night, so that’s your best bet for a face-to-face,” Sombra said as she handed her tablet over for inspection. Symmetra took it and looked at the surveillance photo of her target at the bar of a popular London nightclub. She flicked the window to the side so she could look at the street map behind it. Their hotel was marked at one corner with a path leading to their projected destination.

“No business partners? A nightclub is an odd sort of place for an independent man such as himself to frequent, ” she noted. Clubs were for socializing, but there were no mentions of business partners, friends, or family in his life. Well, he did have ONE family member, but the file didn’t make mention as to whether Hanzo knew his brother had survived. The thought made her heart beat a little quicker in her chest. As soon as she’d read Hanzo’s dossier, she instantly recalled Moira’s story. She was going to speak with the man who’d attempted to kill his own brother and left him to die alone.

“No. Not really surprising. That’s a place where a lot of shady business goes down. He works out of there right now. It's where he gets all of his jobs. Mainly security jobs and rough-ups. Hasn’t made a hit in a couple months... that Talon knows of,” Sombra expanded. She brushed her hair back and wound it into a messy knot. Seeing her casually readying for sleep at a normal hour was almost surreal to Symmetra. The hacker (who she still only knew by her alias) sometimes came off as more of a caricature rather than a real person, but there she was, dressed in black binary-print pajama bottoms pulling her toothbrush out of a plastic tube next to a hotel vanity like any average holiday tourist! Hm. _All she’d need is a pamphlet about touring the Tower of London to fit the illusion!_

“Ah. A den of thieves. I’m sure to blend in there, aren’t I?” she joked.

“Given that you work with the Junkers and me, I’d say so... I could dress you up again if you’d like,” Sombra offered, and grinned over her shoulder.

“Thank you, but I’d rather not get myself in trouble at the hands of your selection again,” she clucked.

“...again?” Sombra piped, her grin growing broader. _Fuck_.

“I received a lot of stares that night. It made me feel uncomfortable,” she explained, and it was technically true. It took her two drinks that night to finally manage to shut out the other eyes looking her way, but there had been one set she actually liked having fallen upon her.

"Well, don't worry about it. This is the sort of place where everyone fits in. Even Suits, or whatever it is the Junkers call them. I've been there once years ago... I think. Honestly, all these cities are starting to blend into one big sprawl, you know?".

"I don't, but I can see that being the case,". Her roommate busied herself with brushing, flossing, and washing her face while she herself changed into something more suitable for sleeping.

Sym settled into bed shortly after Sombra. She rarely had to share a room with a colleague (in fact, it had been some years), and she would readily admit that she always found it awkward and uncomfortable. Even in her university days she never quite warmed up to the concept of sharing her space with a roommate. The other woman in the bed next to hers wasn’t bothered in the slightest. She was too busy observing something interesting on her handset to even remember there was another person in the room.

“Would it bother you if I watched some television?” she politely asked. Her roommate’s head popped up, her face highlighted with a violet glow.

“Hm? Oh! No. Do whatever. I’m just screwing around with some gamer’s Wikipedia page,” she replied and went back to her screen. Symmetra rolled her eyes and grabbed the remote.

Television was never something she paid too much attention to. Occasionally a show would gain her interest, but it was typically something no one around her would watch, and so she never had anyone to discuss it with. She first landed on a global news channel and spent a few minutes catching up on current events. Front and center were images of Vishkar’s crews building away in Oasis.

“I’m sorry, but can you change it? I don’t want to think about Oasis right now,” Sombra requested. Sym obliged, not needing an explanation why, and began to channel surf.

“Do you still have nightmares?” she wondered.

“Yeah,” she quietly answered. Sym bit the inside of her cheek, and tugged the edges of her comforter down towards her lap so she could prop herself up against the headboard of the bed.

“Moira is having me come to inspect her lab when we return... I am hesitant. I’d rather not come any closer to... that, but duty calls,” Symmetra admitted. Sombra stopped fiddling with her screen and looked her way. Hair tied back, makeup gone, clothes exchanged for thin cotton pants and a loose t-shirt: she was in an almost vulnerable state. Perhaps at that moment, she was the person who existed before she changed her moniker.

“Sym... Why are you here? Why did you join Talon?”. It was such a blunt question, and one she assumed Sombra would already know the answer to. _If she will ask blunt questions, then I will give blunt answers._

“I want to change the world. Though I do not always care for the means Talon takes, this will let me build the world I wish to see. That’s all I want,”. Sombra closed her screens and settled down into bed.

“If Overwatch were still around, would you have joined?”. Well, there was a question she certainly didn’t expect.

“I don’t think so. Overwatch played itself off as a noble organization, but look at what happened; what brought them down. The secrets they kept. The way they cast Moira off to the side. They were so hypocritical... I see it now, I think. Perhaps Akande is right. Progress has its costs. I suppose it always will. If I had to choose, I will always side with those who are willing to pay it, much as I don’t like it,”. She had said her piece. What Sombra thought of it was unknown, but she had a suspicion the woman didn’t particularly like it, and she herself began to wonder if she believed in the words she spoke.

At last, she landed on a channel with something worth watching; Turning Points In History. It was a show highlighting the little moments and actions in time that led to moments of significant change, and overall it was a fascinating program.

“Ooo! Turning Points! Man, I haven’t watched this in forever! Can’t believe it’s still on the air!” Sombra remarked, sitting back up in bed.

“You like Turning Points, too?”. Sombra nodded and hugged her knees to her chest.

“Yeah. Reminds me that little things... the stuff that most people ignore and overlook: little people from low beginnings, seemingly insignificant actions and choices... those are the things that can leave big impacts and change the world,”.

**.           .          .          .           .**

 

“He’s definitely somewhere inside. I’ve got all their entrances and exits monitored. Even the secret ones they think no one notices. Definitely saw him go in, and I KNOW he hasn’t come back out,” Sombra assured through her minimalist headset.

“Understood,” Symmetra replied and looked over her shoulder at her bodyguards, “Gentlemen?”. She’d never had proper security detail before; at least, not for her personally. The reactions from the two of them, upon her request for the mission, differed only slightly. Roadhog just accepted with a quick nod. To him, they were orders to follow, not something to deliberate over. Junkrat was surprised but quick to cooperate. _And why wouldn’t I select them for this mission? They’ve rescued and guarded me before. I’ve never had to fear disloyalty from either of them._

Symmetra had looked at images of many different club patrons to make a suitable selection in dress. Posh, but ready to work a deal; her black and teal dress cut a flattering figure. She’d also managed to do something she almost didn’t think possible. She convinced the Junkers to dress their parts, and she was pleased by their efforts. They’d brought along their suits for the mission, and had even followed her instructions to get them pressed. And, for the sake of appearing a little more casual, she allowed them to leave their neckties behind. Junkrat still snuck a couple pins onto his lapel, but she let that slide as it didn't detract from his appearance.

The club was obnoxiously loud, as she expected it would be. A quick adjustment to her headset tuned out most of the background noises and counteracted the flashing lights. In all, it became tolerable. The grinding bodies on the dance floor made her cringe from their mass aroma; a cloud of colognes, perfumes, and sweat. A little of each wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but much like the bar in Brazil, it nearly overwhelmed her. Part of her wondered if it’d be in poor taste to plug her nose.

“Whatta’ we do now? This place is pretty packed,” Junkrat observed, bending down low towards her ear. With her hair swept up, she could feel his breath on the nape of her neck, and her skin began to prickle. _Oh, you WOULD have to go and make yourself look so good tonight, wouldn’t you? ...Soon, though, I hope... when everything with Moira is set aright._

She knew she shouldn’t begin to dwell upon the mess that was awaiting her back at headquarters. She’d managed to remain aloof during the doctor’s video call. She chose her words and tone deliberately, trying not to lead her on, but Moira's red and blue eyes had held a twinkle to them that was hard to ignore and even a touch unnerving. She’d already begun to work out the things she’d have to say to her when they returned.

“Let me just give Sombra some eyes,” she answered, keeping a lookout for what she needed.

“Sombra, will an ordering station suffice?” she quietly asked.

“Yeah. Get a table and plug me into the base of the menu screen. I’ll take it from there,” the hacker said, and in the background, she could hear a splash.

“Are... are you taking a bath?!” Symmetra asked, incredulous. Sombra chuckled through her earpiece.

“Hey, I can work AND soak, ok? It’s all hologram screens!” she countered.

“Well... I admire your ability to multi-task... I found us a table. I’ll be plugging you in shortly. Be ready for it,”. It was a large curved booth meant to accommodate a bigger party, but given the sizes of her companions, it would suit them perfectly. They settled in with her seated between them all secure and cozy, and she felt almost intimidating. Two giant menacing-looking men following behind her while she strolled around in her “power heels”; who wouldn’t feel imposing? She was (as Sombra had put it earlier that evening) “unfuckwithable”, and that was something she felt should have just been the natural order of things.

She reached into her purse and grabbed the hacker’s little device; it was a streamlined version of her “rubber ducky”, and it adhered to the computer base for the drink menu. Symmetra scanned through the drink specials and opted just for a cranberry juice. _No hangovers for me, thanks._ She angled the screen to Junkrat, who flicked through it all with notable annoyance etching into his brow.

“What th’hell kinda’ drinks are these? Why th’hell are they so expensive?” he sneered.

“They’re craft cocktails. You don’t have to select anything, you know,”. After locating the sections for beers and ciders, his usual smile returned and he chose something he liked. Hog skipped past drinks altogether and opted for several items off the food menu.

“I’m in, and found the security feed... this may take a little while. There are a lot of cameras in this place,” Sombra informed. A waiter bot floated their way to deliver their orders, and Junkrat sneered at that, too. She didn't bother asking why. She already knew that answer, and it was a discussion for another time.

"Oh! Haha, I found you three! You all look so sharp on camera. Kinda' regret staying behind," Sombra complimented, and Symmetra chuckled.

"Thank you. I'm happy we look the part,".

Junkrat leaned against the back of the booth and propped his arm up along the edge. Perhaps the move was deliberate. If he let it slide downward, he could easily drape it around her shoulders. Even lower, and he could circle her waist. His hand could rest with his fingers gripping her hip. _This isn't a date. Focus._ She sipped her juice while Junkrat drummed his metal fingers across the tabletop, and Roadhog let out a tired sigh before popping a whole spring roll into his mouth.

"Ah! Guess it didn't take that long after all! Booth thirty-eight, lower level," Sombra informed, and Symmetra snapped to attention. The menu distorted, and in the corner of the screen a video opened up. It was the security feed, and she could clearly see the target sitting alone in a booth quietly drinking a martini.

"Thank you, Sombra. We will take it from here. Keep an eye on us, and if anything comes our way, alert us, please," she ordered.

"You got it, boss!". _Boss. I suppose tonight I am._ She liked the title quite a bit, crude though it may sound. She clicked away at the rest of the screen, trying to see if the club had the service options she was looking for.

"What now?" Hog asked, fiddling with the adhesive ear-piece dot behind his ear. A glance at the "options" menu told her what to do next.

"I'm going to have a drink delivered to his table with a message. Hopefully, he will take the bait,". A common update to most drinking establishments was the "drink-chat" feature. Saw someone you liked? Send them an anonymous drink and message. If the recipient accepted, then a proper chat window would open up. It made public outings at places of that sort more comfortable for her, and now she could use it to her advantage. She selected Mr. Shimada's booth number from the list, saw his previous order, and selected a duplicate for him. From there, a prompt unlocked, allowing her to add an introductory paragraph.

**-On behalf of my employer, I wish to speak to you about a business proposal. If interested, come to booth 15, upper level.-**

Sometime after Junkrat finished his cider and Roadhog cleared his second of three plates, she could see from the security feed that Hanzo had received his gifted drink, and, surprised, he looked at his own screen to read what she had sent. His eyes narrowed suspiciously but he began to type a response. Her screen pinged with the incoming message.

**-Upper level is too loud for conversation. Come to my booth so I may properly thank you for the drink, and discuss business.-**

"Ah! He seems willing enough. Gentlemen? Shall we?". Roadhog held a finger up to pause her and cleared off the last skewer of shrimp tails.

There was something empowering about having a bodyguard on either side. Only important powerful people had bodyguards, and the crowd of people parted ways for them. She didn’t just look the part. At that moment she truly did earn Sombra's “unfuckwithable” title. Hanzo would hear her words. They would come to an understanding. She would return to Talon victorious!

“I don’t like it,” Junkrat grumbled behind her as the reached the stairs to the lower level. He hadn’t said much the entire night, and there was a note of seriousness to him that she hadn’t seen before.

“What?” she asked, coming to a pause and assessing him over her shoulder.

“It stinks. Too easy. What kinda’ assassin or whatever just lets some stranger come to his table?”.

“You make a fair point, but given this is a public nightclub, he must feel secure being surrounded by a crowd and cameras,” she replied, hoping she was right, but also feeling rather impressed with his observation and ounce of caution. He kept looking around suspiciously, ready to pounce on anything that may pose a threat. _Is it odd to find this a touch endearing?_

They descended, finding the lower level to be a little more crowded near the bar, but much more quiet as the music lowered to a tolerable volume. This was the lounge for those who actually wanted to converse. The illuminated floors and walls transitioned through the spectrum of colors, giving the room a dreamy sort of ambiance. The trio walked along the side where all the booths lined up. The numbers counted up until they reached it; booth thirty-eight.

Hanzo Shimada looked vastly different from the photo in his dossier. On record, he wore a business suit with a vest, and his hair was cropped short and swept back. In actuality, his hair was shaved along the sides, while the length up top was gathered into a topknot. A piercing dotted either side of the bridge of his nose. The surveillance camera hadn’t shown his clothes in detail, either. Gone was the professional vest and tie. A baggy hooded jacket hung off of him, and his jeans bunched down around his boots.

His dark eyes locked on her the moment she came into view, and his eyebrows darted upward when she came to a stop before him. His surprise grew even further when Junkrat and Roadhog caught up behind her. His hands were in his pockets, no doubt readying to grab a hidden weapon if need be, though she knew he’d never use it on them (not if she had anything to say about it, anyway).

“I don’t recall seeing you down here tonight. How did you know where to find me?” he asked, more so from curiosity than paranoia.

“I have an extra pair of eyes tonight, but I mean you no harm,” she assured, “You’ve actually spoken with my employer before,”. At this, Hanzo eased back into his seat, feeling a little less on edge.

“Have I now? And who is that?” he wondered.

“Akande Ogundimu,” she politely responded, her hands held behind her back. As far as she was aware, Akande and Hanzo had a neutral rapport.

“May I join you?” she asked.

“You may,” he allowed, but turned his gaze to her bodyguards, “but they may not,”. Junkrat instantly scowled, and Roadhog gave an angry snort.

“They are my partners. They pose no threat to you unless you prove a threat to me,” she explained. Hanzo’s face was stern and stony, and he didn’t budge. _I can’t say I blame him._

“Sym, I don’t like this,” Junkrat snapped, and she shook her head no.

“It’s alright,” she soothed.

“My orders were t’stick by ya’,” he reminded.

“I have no intention of harming her. If anyone is in danger here, it’s you two for showing your faces in London with such a high bounty still remaining on your heads,” Hanzo interjected, and Junkrat's flat frown slowly transitioned into another intense scowl.

“I know who you two are. I have no intention of turning you two in, or even attempting such a ludicrous stunt,” he added. Junkrat’s lip curled; a baring of his teeth. Roadhog squared his shoulders. The situation was beginning to grow intense.

“Gentlemen... I will be fine. Please wait at the bar. Those are your orders,” she said, gently murmuring while taking a moment to look them both in the eyes. Junkrat’s amber irises were practically glowing as he stared at Hanzo but softened when he saw her and the collected look in her own. He grumbled something indecipherable, turned, and walked with Roadhog to the bar on the other side of the lounge. Both of the Junkers leaned against the counter and kept a watchful eye from a distance. At last, she took her seat.

“Can I order you something to return the favor?” he offered, tilting his half-finished martini towards her for display.

“No thank you. I have taken a short break from alcohol for the time being,”.

“Then can I at least get your name?” he tried.

“Oh! Yes, I suppose that is customary, isn’t it?” she chuckled, “It is Satya Vaswani,”. She held her hand out, and he shook it as though it were just another day at the office.

"And you are here to try and convince me to join Talon, I assume?" he said, cutting to the quick of it. She had to regain control of the conversation if she hoped to sway him.

"Yes. Mr. Ogundimu selected me. I believe it is because he thinks you and I have more in common. Perhaps you will see what I see in Talon," she explained. Hanzo took one final sip of his martini.

"Ah. The old "we're not so different, you and I" speech," he smirked, and he plucked the skewered olive out of his drink. A flash of sharp teeth, a bite of the olive; it reminded her of a cherry on a plastic sword and a particularly talented tongue.

"Cliche, but no less genuine in this instance. I too was hesitant at their offer. Akande himself approached me first. I told him I would have nothing to do with it. At that point, Talon was nothing more than a destructive and chaotic force. But my superior actually explained things to me. Talon is set on changing the world. To bring it to order. And I saw that the moment I entered their facility... Order. Discipline. That is the only way to live,". Hanzo laced his fingers together and rested his chin on top of them.

“Hm. I’ll admit I sense a kindred spirit, but I have no desire to change the world or bring it to order. Maybe in my old life, but not now,” he replied, growing somber. The light around them, fittingly, had transitioned to blue.

“Do you actually mean that? Can you honestly say you wouldn’t want to be at the forefront of something world changing? To be a part of something bigger than yourself?” she mused but started trailing off as her thoughts flowed to Vishkar, and the way she had cried to herself with happiness when she was approved to work as a full-fledged architech. Despite her sincerity, he remained unmoved.

“Something bigger... That’s what my family business was to me. I ran a world of my own. I was a prince. I did it all for family... until they asked me to do the unthinkable, and then I learned too late what family actually was... I assume you have done your research on my history,” he said, and she nodded.

“I like to be knowledgeable of a person before I speak with them,” she admitted. _I can better relate to a person, or at least try to._

“And yet you don’t see why I refuse to join?” he asked. Symmetra paused before answering, worried that a wrong choice of words would shut him down completely.

“You have lived and worked alone for a very long time, just as I have. It can feel overwhelming to think as a team, but I have found it incredibly rewarding. Perhaps you’ll find the sense of accomplishment that I have found. Perhaps even a second chance,” she answered. Hanzo tilted his head back against the cushioned booth, and laughed, albeit condescendingly.

"A second chance? Redemption? Through a terrorist organization? I think not,".

"We are not a terrorist organization," she clarified, which caused Hanzo to laugh even more.

"You can call it what you like, but at the end of the day," he started and tilted his head towards her bodyguards, "THOSE are the sort of people Talon employs, and I will not become one of them,". Symmetra ground her teeth in anger, knowing right at that moment that there'd be no convincing the man.

"Do not insult them. Unlike you, they have found a new life and sense of purpose," she clipped. Hanzo leaned forward again, appraising her.

"Do you also seek redemption, Miss Vaswani?". _Yes..._

"I am not here to conduct an existential debate with you, Mr. Shimada, and I-," she deflected.

"I will not join. And you can tell Ogundimu to stop trying to convince me otherwise," he cut in, momentarily silencing her own thoughts. Realizing that she'd done all that she could, she collected herself, and slowly rose out of her seat.

"Very well. Then I will not bother you further," she started, but something took ahold of her and her eyes narrowed, "But from what I've read, you have a bounty on your head, too. Not to mention a line of assassins constantly following you. Should you ever need a break from living on the run, our doors are always open... We may even ignore the fact that you come to us with your tail between your legs,".

 

**.           .           .           .           .**

 

"So he said no?" Akande asked, confirming Sym's report. She had failed; plain and simple.

"That is correct, unfortunately," she said towards the holographic screen. Akande frowned but seemed unsurprised.

"It was worth a shot, I suppose. A shame. We could have used his talents and expertise... You are returning now?" he asked, undoing his green and black patterned tie, and undoing the top button of his black shirt.

"Yes, sir. We have just taken off," she informed. Akande wished them a safe flight, and left the call, leaving her feeling deflated and brooding. Hanzo's blunt questions and noncompliance had bruised her ego and festered in her head. She was working with a terrorist organization, and while she'd always tried to convince herself otherwise, he was right. _Is he right? Did I subconsciously think of this as the path to redemption? How can it be?_

"Oi Sym! Can I see the gauntlet again? I wanna' fiddle with it some more!" Junkrat requested, shaking her from her inner turmoil.

"Hm? Oh, yes. It's strapped to the side," she quietly informed, and pointed to the general vicinity, never looking at him, nor at the case behind her.

"Er, ah... everything alright?" he prodded, still in his suit.

"Everything's fine," she lied.

"You did what you could. That guy was just a douche. Always has been," Sombra muttered from the pilot seat. The hacker had been so quiet that Sym had completely forgotten she'd been on the other end of her headset and heard the entire conversation. It was an odd sort of comfort, but she took it.

"Yeah, he was a git," Junkrat agreed, and Symmetra chuckled.

"An arrogant fool," she murmured, but part of her wondered if she was actually speaking about herself. The flight home was quiet. She wound herself up into her own head while Sombra focused on flying. Roadhog was Roadhog, and only let out an occasional sigh or grunt as he read a book. Junkrat was immersed in the gauntlet and made little sounds of delight or frustration. Before she knew it, they landed and she was "home".

Sombra scooped up her small bag of equipment and a suitcase full of clothes. Roadhog shouldered a rucksack. Sym grabbed everything that was hers but noted that Junkrat still had the gauntlet and case. She turned back towards him to collect what was technically hers just as he snapped the case shut.

"Here ya go!" he beamed, holding it out to her. She took the handle and let it hang at her side.

"Thank you," she replied and turned to leave.

"Oh! And one more thing!" he said, causing her to turn back around. He reached into his pocket and held something out to her. In the palm of his hand sat a blue octahedron with a little loop at the top; a duplicate of his first hardlight creation.

"I figgered, you know, my teacher deserves a little somethin' too. A thank you gift if you will. Thought you might like a different color though," he grinned, and she took the small gift. She inspected it. All the sides were smooth and even. His dimensions were consistent on all sides; a perfect specimen overall. Her fingers curled up around it, and she gazed into his eyes.

"It is perfect. Thank you, Junkrat,".


	18. Ch 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symmetra must tour the research labs and facilities with Moira, and the time has come to set things aright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning. The ending to this chapter was difficult to write, and I'm sorry in advance if this hits close to home with any of you.

"You are divine," she whispered and kissed her neck. Symmetra sighed. Long arms dotted with freckles wound around her naked waist.

"You are beauty incarnate," she murmured, her breath trailing a line down her throat, past her collarbones, traveling lower still.

"I wish to taste your light,". Before Symmetra could answer, there was a head full of fiery red hair between her thighs, and all she could do was tilt her head back and gasp in pleasure. She wound her fingers through those locks, enjoying the sensations coursing through her.

"You glow so brightly. I need more... I need to devour you!". Something was wrong. The pleasure was turning to pain; excitement to panic. Something was gripping her body... then many things, and she could feel herself being pulled lower. Symmetra's head snapped down, no longer finding Moira. In her place stood shadow and gloom; dark matter grabbing at her with tar-like tentacles! In the center of it all were two blazing gems; one red and one blue. A sinister cackle peeled out around her.

"I need this! I need your strength! I HAVE TO HAVE IT!" it hissed, and the sticky tar worked further up, dragging her towards its epicenter. She parted her lips to scream, but her mouth filled with the dark matter, choking every sound out of her. She threw her hands over her head, where they froze in place. Her whole body stiffened. She tried to cry, and though she couldn't see her own face, she knew her tears were black and sticky too. _It is better this way, isn't it?_ Her eyes gazed upward, resigning herself to her fate. What she did not expect to witness was the sound of a car alarm chirping, a small explosion, and a blazing fireball arcing over her! It landed on the barren dirt nearby, and as the flames died down, they revealed the driving force behind them.

“Fuck, that was a ride!” a smoldering Junkrat chuckled between coughs. He looked at the dreamscape surrounding them; dark skies, dirt, and rocks. She loosened her hands enough to scrabble at the earth in a pitiful attempt to free herself, and the sound was enough to catch his attention. Junkrat seemed absolutely nonplussed by the situation.

“Oh! Well, look at ya! I tell ya, Sym. You always manage t’get yerself inta' trouble,” he clucked like it wasn’t anything to be concerned about. Junkrat dusted the soot and ash off his shorts (not that it mattered, as he was still a wreck). He squatted down to look at her, and barely even acknowledged the horrific ball of pitch blackness.

“He-help!” she whimpered through a mouth full of the gelatinous substance. At this, Junkrat looked utterly baffled.

“From what? That?” he asked and pointed back at the source of her fear. It sucked her in a little further, but he was completely at ease. She nodded, desperate for him to grab her hands and pull her away. Junkrat simply shrugged.

“All y’gotta’ do is let go of it,” he said, continuing to sound unperturbed, and even a touch condescending.

“WHAT?! IT has a hold on ME!” she snapped, her words starting to grow more clear with each syllable.

“What? Are ya daft? You’re the one not letting it leave!” he replied, incredulous. Frustrated at him for CLEARLY lying, she looked down at it, only to find that he was correct. She had her arms wrapped around a tendril and her nails were sunk into it. Her knees gripped tightly against the orb of vapors and tar.

“I don’t understand...” she trailed, and Junkrat plopped on the ground next to her.

“You don’t gotta’ understand. You just gotta’ let go,”.

“He’s right, you know,” came a rumble from off to the side. She craned her neck towards the source of the sound and spotted a mountain. Only it wasn’t a mountain. It was Roadhog, and he was sipping away at a massive cup of tea, towering over both of them.

“Don’t happen often, but sometimes he gets it right,” he added.

“Can’t you see she isn’t ready yet?” another familiar voice called, and when Symmetra turned her head again, she spotted Sombra broadly grinning from ear to ear (literally, and it was an unnerving image).

“This is getting weird...” she mumbled to herself. Sombra snickered with the Junkers.

“Weird? Lady, this is YOUR dream!” Sombra pointed out.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” she reluctantly accepted. Junkrat shook his head with a sad look on his face.

“Yeah, it is... Still gotta’ let it go, though,”.

“I’mmmm trying...” she mumbled some more, and slowly opened her eyes. She was tangled up in her sheets, sweaty, and frustrated. _Thank you, subconscious, for your “subtlety”..._ What a dream it had been. She rarely remembered hers to begin with, and it had struck a particular nerve. She’d been awake for all of three minutes, and already she’d succumbed to a bad mood.

Moira obviously symbolized Moira, and the dark matter was the dark matter. _But why on earth would I keep holding on to something like that?_ She had no want to dissect such ludicrous imagery. It was a dream, and the Junkrat in that dream was correct, in a way. Dreams didn't have to make sense. She rubbed her face to shake herself back into place and begin her day.

"Ares, what time is it?" she asked.

"It is a quarter to eight," he announced, and she groaned. _Late._

"Why didn't you wake me at seven, like I asked?" she snipped and pulled herself free from her twisted sheets. _The source of my entrapment..._

"I did. You told me to go fuck myself... Would if I could," the AI sassed. She wasn't entirely surprised. The last person she'd slept with alerted her to the fact that she talked in her sleep.

"Sorry," she apologized and then rolled her eyes at the notion of apologizing to a computer program.

It was just as well that she'd overslept. She wasn't in any sort of rush to get to Moira's lab. In fact, the longer she could delay the inevitably awkward situation, the better. _No... No, this has to happen today... for all our sakes._ She took her time readying herself; a longer shower in the communal washroom, much to the chagrin of the other women waiting. One of those women was Amelie, which she found strange, considering that she reportedly had her own private bathroom.

"There was a malfunction with the hot water sensor, and it would not warm up," she overheard Lacroix say to the woman standing behind her.

"Umm... I thought you said you can't feel cold," the unnamed woman timidly replied.

"I don't, but it is the principal of the thing," the assassin snipped back.

Symmetra finished dressing back in her own room and fished through her jewelry box to find something to match her clothes, choosing to go with a simple silver chain around her neck. _It needs something though..._ and when the thought popped into her head, her eyelids lowered. _Perhaps..._ She scooped up the blue octahedron and stared at it for a moment before attaching it to the chain. It hung down just past her collarbones, and she found it to be aesthetically pleasing. She left her room before she could dwell upon her selection.

Breakfast. She arrived later than her usual routine allowed, and she was forced to suffer waiting with the ground soldiers and new recruits. She stuck out like a sore thumb in her old Vishkar architech uniform, but her clothes brought her a sense of comfort and nostalgia. _This is who I've always been, first and foremost._ After fixing herself a tray, she walked into the crowded cafeteria to find a seat with very little success, though she did find two friends whom she felt like she'd seen only an hour prior.

"Sym? Whatcha' doin' here so late?" Junkrat asked just before stuffing a piece of toast in his mouth. Suddenly she began to feel nervous and out of place; as if they'd somehow known she'd dreamt about them.

"I slept through my alarm... May I join you?". The Junkers may have lacked etiquette and table manners, but they more than made up for it with their welcoming demeanor. Junkrat pushed his tray over to make room for hers, and Roadhog stacked a couple empty plates out of the way.

Symmetra didn't typically sit with them most days, despite their friendship. Her mornings usually started earlier than theirs, and considering she worked next to Junkrat on a daily basis, she'd often take her lunches and dinners alone or away from them. She'd told them she liked having time to "decompress", and they never pushed her about it. But something about the dream had shaken her a little, and the idea of being alone with her own thoughts was something she wanted to avoid.

"Whatcha' got goin' on t'day?" Roadhog asked for the sake of making conversation. Sym spread some jam on her toast.

"I will be going to Moira's lab for a tour and to discuss her findings. With luck, we'll have some tentative design requirements worked out by days' end," she answered. _Among other things..._ Roadhog grunted and slurped down the rest of his tea, just as he had in her dream, and it took her back to the paralyzing fear she’d experienced.

"Junkrat..." she started, but hesitated. He looked up from a plate heaping with scrambled eggs; a pepper shaker clutched in his gloved hand. Did she dare ask him? Dangling from the wrist cuff was a bright orange octahedron, and her cheeks began to burn at the sight of it. Yes, she dared.

"What's up?" he asked, and she hoped neither of them would notice her blush.

"Why don't you come with me?".

"Me?!" he squawked with surprised. She cleared her throat to prevent herself from chuckling.

"Yes. There's a probability that you'll be working on this project as well. Better to acquaint yourself early," she explained. Junkrat's smile turned into a grimace.

"I... I dunno', Sym... She don't exactly like me very much," he hesitantly admitted.

"We all work here. You have just as much right to be here as I do. She will have to learn to play nice now, won't she? And I have no doubt you will impress her if you give her time,".

“If you think it’s a good idea, s’pose I’ll tag along,” he agreed, albeit hesitantly. The plan was settled. She hurried through her breakfast and left with him to collect her tablet from the workroom.

In the back of her mind loomed an unexplainable anxiety and the sense that she was doing something wrong by bringing him along. Moira hadn’t extended the invitation to him, and while she knew the woman disliked Junkrat, perhaps it wasn’t the only reason she felt so guilty. _He is intelligent and no doubt WILL be working on this project with me at some point... But medical design isn’t his strong suit. His expertise is demolition... But he has made considerable progress... But not enough to warrant his joining me today..._

His peg leg clicked, her heels clacked, and the staccato reverberated off the sterile white walls and ceiling. Her palm began to sweat the closer they approached the doors marked “Restricted”, and she understood why she felt so guilty about bringing him along; why she INSISTED he join her. _I’m a coward, aren’t I?_

“Ah! Vaswani! Right on time! Welcome!” Moira cheerfully greeted, her eyes immediately locking onto the man standing behind her, “... Junkrat... a surprise, to say the least,”. He raised his metal fingers and gave a little wave.

“Good morning! Sym said I should come with. You know, so I know what’s goin’ on if you need more help,” he answered while standing a little straighter, his shoulders a little more square. Her eyes darted back to her, glimmering ruby and sapphire. _Just like my dream..._

“Hm. Not a bad idea, actually. No doubt an extra set of hands will prove useful in the days to come,” Moira nodded, growing more cordial. It was almost suspicious. She turned on her heel and escorted them through the corridor of examination rooms (some of which appeared to be occupied by patients), rounded away from the quarantine zone, and pushed open the first set of doors within the research lab.

“And here is where the magic happens,” Moira sighed, excitement glowing in her eyes and a giddy spring accompanying to her step. Around the brightly-lit windowless room hummed both equipment and people in lab coats. Most of them covered their faces with masks or protective eyewear and barely looked up from their microscopes and computers. O’Deorain came to a stop towards the center of the room and gave a little clap to gain their attention.

“Everyone stop what you’re doing and pay attention,” she ordered, and everyone around her obeyed.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed how quickly we’ve outgrown our ‘hand-me-down’ equipment, due largely in part of your hard work and dedication. So, first, thank you for that,” she started and paused for applause and even a couple cheers. The doctor beamed with pride and waited for the clapping to die down.

“But, as with all things, growth brings change. We need improved and upgraded equipment, which is why Miss Vaswani and... her assistant are here today. They will be touring this and all the other labs, paving the way for more designers and engineers to come through. I do apologize though. That means we’ll all have to be on our best behavior, so try and act professional,” she explained, ending with a lighthearted chuckle. It must have been their own running joke because the other lab attendants echoed the laugh before returning to whatever it was they were doing. Moira waved them on, and they followed along.

In the lab, the doctor showed yet another facet of herself. Her confidence was a little more lighthearted, her stance more casual. It reminded her of seeing her in Oasis sporting a t-shirt and jeans. _Ah! That is it. This is the Moira we see when she is “at home”._ Somewhere through their walk, she’d stepped to Symmetra’s side, placing Junkrat behind them. _But there is still that._

“That is just storage and supplies. We can skip that hall. And down here, we have offices. This is where the teams meet up to go over findings, brainstorm, things of that nature,” she prattled. Symmetra nodded her head and responded when appropriate, while Junkrat buried his face behind a small memo pad. A glance back at what he was writing showed a crudely-sketched map with different areas marked with notes. Though he could easily pull that information up on a computer, he’d taken the time to memorize his surroundings then and there (or at least attempt to).

“Past there is the rear entrance to the quarantine section. It’s emptying now. There’s one soldier recovering from a local disease, but he’ll be leaving this section in a couple days. After which, we will be doing a full decontamination to prepare for testing on humans,” she explained.

“The pieces from Lucheng included equipment for animal testing, correct?” Symmetra asked.

“Yes. We have a separate quarantine area just for the mice, rats, and rabbits. Would you like to see it?” she offered, and then realized how unappealing that sounded, “To look over the machinery and tech in there, of course,”.

“That sounds good. I have a feeling that will be the area Vishkar will be most invested in,”.

"Yer gonna' start testin' on people? What, like, with that dark matter stuff?" Junkrat asked, and Moira looked at him over her shoulder.

"Yes," she clipped.

"That's the stuff you an' Som didn't like, roight?" he asked, turning to look at Symmetra instead. She bit the inside of her cheek, not wanting to have that discussion with Moira standing right there. It was embarrassing to be afraid of it, wasn't it?

"I am sure it is properly contained. I have nothing to fear," she lied. Moira approached a very secure-looking door and waited for it to open.

"Password," Ares chuckled, and Moira sneered.

"Unbelievable," she muttered, "Sombra should be tossed to the dogs for this stupidity,". The woman tacked at the manual keypad, but Ares kept the door shut.

"Password," the metallic voice snickered again. She craned her neck upward towards a security camera and stared at it.

"The password is I'm Moira-Fucking-O'Deorain, you shit, and I can authorize your deactivation!" she barked, and the door snapped open.

"Just having some fun. You should try it sometime," Ares sassed back. Their tour came to a halt in a small utility room. Two walls were stacked from top to bottom with cages full of furry test-subjects scrambling about in spaces that felt to be a little too small. Thirty rats, sixty mice, and eighteen rabbits; all of them staring back for moments at a time before hopping onto exercise wheels and towards suspended water bottles.

"It's cold in here," Junkrat noted while peering at some of the habitats, and he wasn't wrong. The air was noticeably cooler, but not uncomfortable for her in her jacket and Moira in her lab coat.

"Most people remember to wear shirts, Junkrat," Moira condescendingly reminded, smirking. His eyebrows knit together as he came a little closer to a row of rats.

"I mean fer these guys," he corrected, pointing at the rodents. Before Moira could reply, there was a shout that came from behind a door they'd yet to pass through. O'Deorain quickly opened it and stuck her head down another small corridor.

"What's all the commotion-,".

"STOP! LOOSE RABBIT!" another scientist shouted while a silky black and white spotted blur came bounding right at them. Moira reacted a millisecond too late, and the creature shot right past her. Sym instinctively spun to pursue it but didn't know the best way to grab a rabbit. The test subject bumped into Junkrat's peg leg, stunning it just long enough for him to get his hands around it and scoop it up. The little creature timidly curled up in his hands and froze in fear.

"Aw, lil' fuzzball is scared outta' his mind!" Junkrat said, running two of his finger down it's back in a soothing stroke. It was endearing, and while at a glance it would seem uncharacteristic of a Junker, she could only assume that a man who'd spent time in prison would empathize with anything that had to live behind bars.

The lab worker, a scrawny man who looked like he hadn't seen daylight in weeks, finally caught up to them. Moira folded her arms and stared down at him as he braced his hands on his knees, and panted from the exertion.

"Explain," she clipped, both her tone and her gaze icy. He straightened right back up.

"Sorry, Doctor. We'd just taken him out of the exposure chamber and he was unexpectedly alert. Tried biting my hand and dashed right past us as we were removing him from the hatch," he answered, coughing towards the end. Moira grumbled and went to reclaim the rabbit from a reluctant Junkrat. She took the creature a little roughly and it let a shrill little chirp of protest while flinching.

"I wouldn't recommend growing attached," she cryptically warned, and popped the critter into one of the empty cages. A chill ran up Symmetra's spine, and she tried reminding herself that this was the ugly reality of a geneticist's line of work. Their guide beckoned them along with a wave towards the open door that the rabbit had escaped from moments ago.

Another doorway, another lab. It was beginning to feel like its own personal city, and considering that she didn't recognize many of the faces around her, the mental analogy wasn't untrue.

Another chill ran up her spine, though this time it was from a familiar fear. Off to the sides and corners resided various equipment and technology that she could only assume came from the Lucheng heist, but in the center hovered a ball of her personal nightmare.

The sample of dark matter was so small that one could almost write it off as inconsequential, but she knew better. Her stomach knotted up, and she stepped behind Junkrat, who had also grown transfixed by it. Floating bots equipped with monitoring sensors circled and scanned the unnatural substance, keeping it in check.

"Is that it?" Junkrat asked, staring at it with unexpected intensity.

"Yes," Symmetra breathlessly replied, her voice small. He took a few steps closer to gain a better look.

"Don't!" she yelped, grabbing his hand to pull him back, and the motion seemed to shake him out of his trance.

"It's fine, Satya. So long as no one passes the red line, they'll be safe," Moira said, her head nodding towards the floor. A red circle had been painted around it with warning signs and sensors.

"Let me show you the equipment... Oh! And a very special test subject,". Symmetra tore her attention away so she could focus on the doctor's distraction. They approached a "bunny-sized" containment unit with a pressurized chamber inside. The door remained open next to a sheepish-looking lab tech, who held out a tablet.

"He was a lively one today," the tech said, "And here are the findings. Everything as you figured yesterday,". She took the tablet; her nails tacking on the glassy frame.

"What a surprise," she haughtily chuckled, "Where is Seventeen?". The tech confirmed that Subject Seventeen was there and wheeled over a cart with a holding tank. Inside sat a beautiful velvety-looking black rabbit; its fur contoured with lines of white near its mouth, nose, and the tips of the ears.

"It's beautiful!" Sym murmured, and the creature truly was. Moira opened up the tank and pulled the rabbit out. It flinched at her touch at first, but then seemed to resign itself to its fate.

"Seventeen is a miniature Rex. How it managed to get mixed up with the other common breeds is beyond me, but she has proven to be our most successful subject," Moira said, introducing the creature before setting her on a metal lab table resting next to the containment unit, "Observe,". Once free from the doctor's grasp, Seventeen calmed down and peacefully settled on the cold table. Symmetra and Junkrat waited to see what the fuss was about, and gasped as the animal began to glow!

It was subtle at first. Its eyes and whiskers transitioned to a bright blue, and soon spots along its forehead and chest joined them, albeit muted underneath all the thick black fur. The display changed to an almost strobing pattern as it looked at the humans standing around it. Moira rummaged in her pocket and found a bag full of biscuits, which she held overhead. The strobing slowed down to a calming pulse.

"The patterns change depending on Seventeen's mental state. We hope to train her soon so she may use it as a means of communication, rather than just a reactionary response, but for now we'll take pride in this achievement," she explained and handed the rabbit a little treat. Seventeen munched away; her bioluminescent markings slowly darkening.

"That's... I ain't got words fer it... That stuff there can really make somethin' like that?" Junkrat asked, looking back and forth from Seventeen to the dark matter floating in the center of the room.

"With some help on my part, yes," Moira smirked. She gave Seventeen back to the technician, instructing him to put her back in her cage. He shut the door behind him, leaving the trio alone.

"So what say you, Vaswani? Creations worthy of Vishkar's research?" she asked, enticingly.

"Yes, I'd say so," she replied and set right to work configuring a wire-frame model of the machinery before her. She temporarily lost herself in the project and both Moira and Junkrat watched in amazement as she reproduced it all almost from memory.

"We could enlarge the chamber, though that will require a stronger power source. I imagine a separate high-density solar cell will do the trick," she noted to herself and spun the reproduction around a couple times as she eyed it.

"This will be beyond my physical capabilities here; even with Junkrat helping," she started, and clicked at her tablet. The model flashed and vanished, "There. I have sent it along to head office. They'll see my notes and model, along with the blueprints for reference. This is only the beginning of course, but you'd be surprised at what can be produced in such a short amount of time,".

"Marvelous," Moira replied and smiled with an unsettling glint in her eyes. Junkrat once again pulled his shabby notebook out from his pocket and scribbled some notes.

"Solar will work but you're gonna' need more of that stuff, right? What about a safer housing chamber?" he said, indicating the dark matter. Moira's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, we will need more, but it is safe as it is, provided you don't get within 'grabbing distance'," she confirmed.

"See, that's just it. The more you got, th'bigger the range, yeah?" he elaborated.

"Why, Junkrat! I never thought of you as the cautious sort," Moira retorted.

"I am when it comes t'this shit!" he replied, but still he wandered towards it, peering into its center.

"You needn't worry. When the time comes, we'll be moving everything over to a bigger workspace that will safely house a larger sample and an increased safety diameter," she assured.

"You really think this isOHFUCK!" he started and ended with a yelp. The two women whipped around, and though Junkrat was well outside the danger zone, the dark matter had shot a ribbony tendril that attached itself to his wrist!

Sensors started blaring and they sprang to action; Moira grabbing his shoulders tightly, and Symmetra wrapping her arms fiercely around his waist. They tugged and pulled, grinding their feet against the tiled floor for traction. Eventually, they were able to pull him back, breaking the connection while something metallic clattered to the floor and the three of them fell together in one big heap. The dark matter shrank back into the danger zone, settling back into its lifeless hovering state.

"Holy fuck!" Junkrat gasped, "That shit ain't natural!".

"Junkrat! Are you alright?" Symmetra asked, helping him to sit back up. He shook his head yes.

"Yeah! Yeah, I think so! Just scared th'hell outta' me! But I don't think it actually touched me," he said, and he slowly stood back up. He looked at his hand and wrist before pointing at it.

"My charm! Where'd it go?" he asked, looking at the floor. Moira stooped down and scooped it up. She let the orange charm dangle between her fingertips.

"It's a good thing it attached to this. Little thing practically saved your life! One might even call it lucky," she mused, handing it back to him. Symmetra looked back at the dark matter and hissed a worried breath. Another of her friends had nearly fallen into its clutches, and her fear of it seemed more and more justifiable with every encounter.

"I know it didn't make any physical contact with your person, but I'd prefer if you went to the medical wing for an examination," the doctor suggested, and Symmetra found her concern for the Junker surprising and, if she were to be honest with herself, a touch redeeming. _Perhaps she will take what I have to say earnestly._

Outside the lab doors, Moira ordered a nearby tech to escort Junkrat to the medical wing so he could be thoroughly examined and suggested that Symmetra follow her over to her private office so that they may better discuss business without any further interruption from the distracting substance. _Good. A nice private setting. She'll feel comfortable there, and it will be easier to have this discussion privately._

And Moira's office was most assuredly comfortable... for Moira. It was windowless, cramped, and jam-packed with collectibles and memorabilia from the animated shows she liked so much. Her desktop was cleared off in the center but flanked with toy robots that reminded Sym of the Korean Meka program. On the wall hung printed fabric posters and replica swords. The doctor turned a spherical lamp on, and the golden orb dotted with red stars lit right up. Though it was considerably tidier and better smelling, the office did remind her of Junkrat's bedroom.

"I apologize for the mess. No one really comes around here often and I've let the upkeep get away from me," she admitted before pulling out her desk chair and giving it a look of concern.

"Oh! Erm... I only have the one seat. Give me a moment and I'll find you something,".

"No need," Symmetra said, waving her hand and quickly fashioned a hardlight duplicate for herself, "I brought my own,". Moira chuckled at her little quip before tucking a few loose strands behind her ear. _Ah. The "ear tuck"..._ She shook the thought away and tried to focus on work, but the small room was stuffy on top of being cramped. She removed her jacket, draped it overtop the doctor's lab coat, and scooted up to the other side of the desk.

O'Deorain supplied her with more blueprints and personal notes, which Symmetra poured over, temporarily ignoring the world around her. Her companion was helpful to some degree. While a brilliant geneticist, the doctor had limited understanding of the building process, and engineering wasn't exactly her forte. But a couple hours of hard work and brainstorming went by, and Sym started gathering the last bit of information that she'd need to send back to Vishkar. Moira stood back up from her creaky wooden chair and stretched her arms before rubbing her lower back.

"I'm so excited to be pushing forward with all of this, but I'm thinking I'm going to need some proper relaxation tonight," she said, grunting between stretches. Symmetra could feel her own stiff muscles begin to ache, having sat still for far too long.

"I suppose a trip to the pool might be in order. The hot tub at least. It's as close to a bath as I'll get over here," she mused along, tugging at the hem of her bunched-up violet blouse. It had been a while since she visited the pool. In truth, the last time she could remember going was the time Junkrat shot her in the ass with the water gun, and she smirked internally at the memory of the look of horror upon his face when she had spun around to confront him.

"Oo! A bath! I think I'll draw one for myself tonight," her companion noted. Symmetra attached a file from her tablet to an email to the R&D team before sending it onward.

"I will admit I am rather envious that you and Ms. Lacroix have your own private baths. It gets so loud near the pool. I would love to soak in peace," she mumbled along for the sake of keeping the conversation going.

"Color me surprised," Moira replied, and suddenly there was a hand on the back of her chair! Slowly she was spun around in her seat, now facing Moira, whose face held no secrets as to what she was thinking.

"You could... join me tonight if you wish," she offered, lowering her gaze to meet her own.

Symmetra froze. Every thought in her head vanished. Any semblance of what to do or say vacated her. She was a rabbit in headlights, and while she knew what Moira was going to do next, she found herself incapable of trying to stop it from happening. The doctor placed a hand on each of her shoulders, tilting her chair back until it bumped against the edge of the desk, and placed her lips upon her.

Like other women, Moira's kiss felt soft. Her lips did, anyway, but there was something fierce about it; an intense hunger starting to overtake her. Symmetra hated how petrified she was; how she didn't do or say anything to stop it. And worse, she hated herself for enjoying it. It had been so long and it felt so good. _But this needs to stop..._ She forced herself to pull back, breaking the connection, and she stared back both breathless and panting at the eyes that had haunted her dreams only a few hours ago.

"Moira, I don't want-," she managed to stammer as she attempted to rise from her chair, but the woman in front of her pushed her back just enough for her to topple onto the desk.

"To wait? I know!" Moira rushed, falling forward on top of her. Her kiss was deeper this time. Her tongue penetrated Symmetra's lips while one hand locked her wrist in a tight grip above her, and the other ran a path down her side. Long fingers slipped under the hem of her blouse and brushed against her skin, which prickled in response.

Symmetra tried wriggling out from underneath her, but Moira only grew more adamant. Her grip on her wrist tightened, and Sym let out a small grunt from discomfort. Her heart was racing. _She's... she's not going to stop! I need her to stop!_ The roaming hand climbed back up to the top of her blouse and she wrenched it open, popping the top two buttons clean off and exposing her chest. _STOP! STOP!_

"MOIRA STOP!" she managed to gasp as she brought her free arm up and shoved her assailant back with all her might. Moira staggered back a couple of steps and stared down at her, panting and confused.

"What?! What's wrong?" the doctor blundered, utterly oblivious as to why she would oppose her advances. Symmetra could feel the sting of tears beginning to form in her eyes.

"I don't want this, Moira!" she choked. The doctor's confusion quickly turned into a scowl.

"What are you on about?!" she snapped.

"I... I don't think of you in this way!" Symmetra admitted. There was anger flaring in those eyes; red and blue flames burning bright and hot.

"The hell you don't! You've been leading me on for MONTHS and-,". Her words came to a complete stop as her attention fell upon her breasts. _What is she staring at? ...OH!_ Hanging past her collarbones was the chain she'd put on that morning, and Junkrat's blue charm dangling from it; the one that matched his own so perfectly. The doctor straightened herself and adjusted her tie. An agonizing silence hung between them; the hum of the lamp and the ambient sounds from outside the office sounding so much louder than they should have.

"...I see," Moira murmured, and turned away so she wouldn't have to look at her.

"Grab your things and get out of my office,". Symmetra's adrenaline had spiked, and her hand trembled.

"Moira...," she whispered, "Moira, I-,".

"GET OUT!". Embarrassed and terrified, Sym slid off the desk, grabbed her jacket, and stumbled out of the office. The door shut behind her, and she threw her jacket on to cover her exposed flesh. Something hit the door before shattering behind it, and the sliver of light that had cast from the gap underneath it vanished. _...the lamp..._ Choking back tears, she navigated the maze of halls and laboratories on shaky legs. _Don't cry. You must wait until you're in your room to cry._


	19. Ch 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira apologizes, but is she sincere? Junkrat gets to engage in a covert mission with Symmetra, and finds the threat of imminent danger a reminder of what he really wants in life. Symmetra may have been recognized while on mission. What will Sanjay have to say about that? A blue little bot named Snowball has it out for Junkrat.

**Dear Satya,**

**I am writing to apologize. I was far too out of line and behaved inappropriately when I accosted you, and cowardly when I yelled at you. It was never my intention to harm or frighten you. Quite the opposite. I read your signals incorrectly, I believe. You always seemed to present yourself so openly to me, and I believed you were comfortable and willing. It seems I was mistaken.**

**As for my outburst after, I truly have no excuse. I have taken on a lot of hours lately. I’ve been tired and stressed, which I admittedly have never tolerated well. In short, I was in a prime mental state for something like this. That doesn’t make what I did and said excusable, and again, I am sorry.**

**It pains me to know that I have caused you anguish. I genuinely care for you as a friend above all else. Everything I said was disrespectful. You are free to choose whomever you wish to be with, and though I wished to be that person, it was not my place to say I was.**

**As I respect you and wish your comfort, I will not continue to contact you after this message unless you initiate, and will always be professionally cordial when duty calls. I hope maybe someday you’ll forgive me.**

**-Moira**

  
**.           .           .           .           .**

  
Junkrat never really fancied himself to be a good candidate for a "covert operation", yet there he was dressed all in black riding out on a boat with Symmetra, Reaper, and Sombra towards the tourist city of Ilios, preparing to partake in a mission just as night had fallen. Sometime back an earthquake had opened up a crack in the ground near an old temple, leading to a hidden cavern where a large mass of dark matter concentration had remained hidden for many millennia. The city had been cleared out, scientists and researchers had been brought in, and the Greek government had hired Helix Security to keep an eye on the place. Their job was to open a hole in Helix’s fortifications to allow Talon soldiers to properly infiltrate the city and secure the dark matter.

“How is your stomach?” Sym asked as the boat hit another choppy wave that normally would have made him wretch over the side. She was also clad in black tactical gear, her hair blowing behind her.

“S’fine,” he answered, feeling somewhat nervous. Hog had given him a pack of ginger caplets prior to them loading up, and the little pills worked well for him. But Roadhog wasn’t there to have his back, and that made him feel uneasy. His bodyguard had always been there for him. Always. That bit of consistency had saved his ass on more than one occasion, and here he was about to do something incredibly dangerous sans his living, breathing impulse control. _But... but Sym’s here! She’ll make sure I don’t do nothin’ stupid._ Sym was logical and rational; in short, everything he wasn’t. Hopefully, she’d be motivation enough to stay on target.

“We’re approaching the cliff. Get ready,” Reaper ordered, and their transport rounded a bluff towards their destination. The boat came to a stop, the anchor dropped, and the four of them bobbed along with the current and waves splashing up along the rocks.

The cliff was the only access point for their end of the mission. Air-dropping would have been suicide, as Helix was noted for their aerial superiority, and approaching them from anywhere else would have put them out in the open. Symmetra quickly formed a narrow staircase and platform for them to ascend, and after securing their packs and supplies, they began to climb.

Junkrat kept a tight grip on the railings at his side. He’d grown accustomed to working with a peg leg, but climbing had always given him trouble and it always required a little extra concentration. Reaper had already taken what he could carry (a considerable amount) and dissipated into an ethereal fog before reforming at the platform she’d created, and waited for them to catch up.

“Get the launcher ready,” Reaper instructed, and Symmetra created the device from memory.

That had been a personal project of theirs for the better part of a week. They needed a teleporter to allow them to pass through, but Sym wouldn’t be able to project one past Helix’s translucent barrier. An idea was hatched. Together they created a launcher that would catapult a teleporter base over the top of the barrier down to the other side. From there she could power up another one on her side, creating a means of entry, and with the contraption operating manually, it would travel quietly and (hopefully) undetected by the security team.

Working with her on such an important project had been a boon. They found that despite their vastly different thought processes, they could work very well together, always compensating for what the other lacked. The only thing he regretted was that the purpose of their work was all to bring more of that blasted dark matter back to the base.

He hated the stuff. The brief moment of contact kept creeping up in his dreams, and he could only imagine how much worse it had been for her and Sombra. But he couldn't turn down orders (unless he didn't want to get paid, and that simply wasn't an option for him), and while he didn’t like the mission’s objective, he could at least take solace in the fact that neither of them had to come in close proximity of the stuff. He wondered if that was why Sym had been acting so weird lately.

It was subtle, but something had spooked her, and he could only assume it had been yet another close-call with the substance triggering some sort of stress. After filling Hog in the next evening following his own incident, he’d mentioned something called “PTSD”. Hog knew all sorts of psychological stuff like that, and so he was probably right. She also avoided the medical wing and labs entirely and opted to speak with the other researchers via chat windows too, furthering his hunch. Moira’s research had scared her just as it had scared him.

Symmetra had formed their creation, loaded a teleporter base, and began to position it. She judged the trajectory and looked towards him with a curious eye.

“Correct?” she quietly asked, hoping for a second opinion. Junkrat crouched down and examined the angle she’d set it at. A westward breeze blew; light, but steady. He scrunched his face in thought and turned the base of the catapult barely a centimeter to the left. He gave a thumbs up, and she loosed the machine. The teleporter base was flung up high over the wall with a whoosh that sounded so much louder than it had during their test runs, and they all internally cringed at the sound, hoping no one (or thing) had detected them. No alarms had gone off, so he assumed they’d gone unnoticed.

The teleporter landed upside down (as was expected), and small legs popped out of the top to push itself into position. There it waited, and Sym went back to work creating a partner for it. Soon enough the blue glimmering portal opened, and he stared at it for a moment (just as he always had every time she did so).

“Teleporter online. I have opened the path,” she informed, and Reaper gave a nod before stepping through without hesitation. Junkrat exhaled a pent-up sigh of relief when the man appeared on the other side of the wall completely unscathed; not because he doubted Sym’s abilities to build, but because he would essentially be crossing through a wall and it all just added a bit of unease to the whole thing. The other two went before him, and he brought up the rear with his launcher and packs of grenades and mines.

“Sombra, the security,” Reaper ordered, and she looked around for the nearest terminal tower.

“Got it,”. She approached it, quickly tacking away with her glowing keyboard and the lights on the metal tower went dead. It still hummed along with the other columns on either side of it, continuing to project their shield. Sombra said that was normal. She could shut down the security, but the towers themselves needed to be destroyed in order for the wall to weaken. And when it came to physical destruction, who better than him?

“Secure the mines and alert us when you’re ready for detonation,” Reaper reminded before turning to Symmetra, “You’ll provide back up,”. It was an unexpected change in plans. He was supposed to go alone on this part of the mission, but for whatever reason, his boss thought he’d need a babysitter.

“Of course,” she replied without hesitation. Reaper motioned Sombra to follow him and they took off in a different direction, leaving just the two of them to sneak around the border surrounding the vacant picturesque town of sun-bleached houses and striking blue domed roofs, all of which were illuminated by moonlight.

“Look, ah... if this gets intense, don’t worry about me. Just get th’fuck outta’ here, okay?” he whispered, suddenly feeling nervous at the thought of there being a hired security force possibly looming anywhere around them. Though intel showed their breach point was the least patrolled and secured, he’d never gone up against something of Helix’s nature. He was useless in a firefight that required real skill. He always considered aiming to be overrated, but that was usually when he didn’t have someone else’s life on the line; someone he cared an awful lot for. (Not that he didn’t care about Hog, but honestly that man had a knack for survival that seemed almost unworldly).

“No, Junkrat. We watch each others’ backs,” she countered. Junkrat approached the first tower and reached into his pack. He pulled out a mine and attached it at the weakest point; a split in the panel seams that could be pried apart for quick repair access. It’s grinning face gleamed back at him, eager to take the tower down, and he’d be lying if he wasn’t starting to get a little excited by the prospect of setting it off soon enough. After securing it, they hugged along the walls of different shops and buildings.

Symmetra picked a path through the streets that, while not the most direct, would keep them out of sight of any patrolling guards, and there was a moment where they both began to sweat. Voices and footsteps could be heard, and Sym pushed him up against the side of a closed-up gift shop. His heart slammed in his chest at the panic of being caught. Was this the world she lived in; constantly on edge and anxious? How could she stand it? But after a few tense seconds, the voices and footsteps drifted away, and they made it to the second tower for set up, and not long after that, the third.

“Targets set. Readying for detonation,” Symmetra quietly called through the headset, and he could hear Reaper grunt an acknowledgment.

“That went smoother than I thought,” she quietly muttered to herself.

“What’s that?” Junkrat asked as they proceeded to the spot marked on her glowing map screen to wait out the rest of the mission. They’d be back-up, and they’d only jump into the encroaching battle if it managed to come their way.

“Helix is a professional security firm. I've never attempted something of this nature with an actual militia,” she reminded. Junkrat agreed with a bob of his head and a “roight”.

They hunkered down in an empty cafe, opting to rest and wait inside. Symmetra had used her photon projector to unlock the door. He didn’t know she could pop locks with the thing, and he rubbed his chin as he thought of how useful her skills and tools could have been in past jobs he’d taken on that had almost ended in disasters. _Somethin’ tells me she wouldn’t be so keen on helpin’ us pinch stuff fer th’sake of pinchin’, though._

“Ready to detonate in ten!” Junkrat alerted through his own little earpiece as he flipped the cap on the homemade device. He counted down, feeling his giddiness returning the closer he grew to zero.

There wasn’t anything he could think of that could ever compare with his love for explosives; the excitement, the thrill, the build-up and anticipation, and then the release! God, the deafening sound of the blasts was just too much! His smile stretched from ear to ear and he cackled with glee as he reveled in his own handiwork! Out of the windows, he could see the clouds of smoke shoot upward and outward. The one tower still in his view crumbled, and the translucent wall crackled and flashed before vanishing completely. Ilios was open, security was down, and sirens began to blare.

They’d successfully snuck in, rigged the place up, and blew a hole wide open. Somewhere on the other side of the city, Talon soldiers were rushing in to overtake Helix and take the dark matter on site. And somewhere among the many, Hog was no doubt wreaking havoc.

Junkrat recalled the first time he’d seen the man in action. They’d both attended Wrecking Ball’s debut match at The Scrapyard, and Roadhog had placed a lot of money on the little rat. It was a ballsy move, and it paid off. The critter had won, and Hog raked in a considerable sum, which put a large target on his back. Several Junkers had attempted to rid him of his winnings, but the behemoth made quick work of them all, and from that day forward he knew Roadhog was not a man to fuck with.

“Gunfire, rockets... I’ll never grow used to the sound of that,” Sym murmured as she stood at attention looking out the window. The fighting had commenced in full, and the familiar pops and blasts echoed from only a few kilometers away.

“No? Downright normal soundin’ t’me. When they’re that far off, never bothered me none,” he shrugged and leaned against the wall nearby. The minimal lighting inside cast just enough of a glow to make out her person.

“I’ve been fortunate I suppose. More often than not, the weaponry I face is typically nonlethal... which isn’t to say I haven't faced violence on a whole, of course,”. Her screams in Paris echoed in his mind and he frowned. Up until that night, he’d never seen real fear reflected in someone’s eyes. Well... Hyde had been a different matter.

“Yeah, you got the short end of things last few times, haven't ya? Some real close calls,” he noted.

“Fate has been... unkind in some ways,” she started and looked at him, searching for the right words, “but kind in others,”. His cheeks ignited in an intense blush, which remained hidden in the dark. _Here?! Now?!_ Outside the abandoned buildings a battle waged, but all he could focus on was the beautiful woman in front of him and how very much he suddenly wanted to kiss her. _Why th’fuck not?_

“Sym?” he said, taking a step towards her, slowly pushing a dark wood chair out of his way. It screeched across the floor for a moment, and then the grating sound vanished.

“Yes?” she asked, those gold eyes staring right at him in spite of the gloom around them, setting his heart aflutter. _I could die t’morrow..._

“I’ve been waitin’ a while t’ask you,” he started and swallowed. _Fuck, I could die any minute!_

“What’s that?”.

“It’s just...”. _I ain’t ever gonna’ find anyone like you!_ He took another step, coming to stand directly in front of her. Her face grew puzzled, and something drew her attention.

“Quiet!” she hissed, slapping her hand across his mouth, and in their silence, he could hear it; the sounds of approaching footsteps! Junkrat’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he ground his teeth in anger. He stomped back over to the table holding his launcher and supplies and scooped it all up. Whoever it was outside interrupting the moment was soon to be a dead motherfucker!

**.           .           .           .           .**

She hated the mission from the moment it was announced. A full-on invasion of the city to obtain more dark matter? She thought she wouldn’t have a role to play in any of it, but Talon needed a way in, and she would be the one to help provide it for them. She and Junkrat partnered together to design the catapult; such a medieval creation, but she supposed a manual piece of technology could be useful every now and again. Dark matter aside, there was another reason she didn’t want to go to Ilios, and that reason was flying out among the soldiers for medical back up.

She’d received an email from Moira the day after the incident that had left her shaking. She almost didn’t touch it and considered deleting it without reading it, but much as she hated to admit it, curiosity got the better of her. She opened and read it, surprised to find a thorough and respectful apology. It was unexpected, to say the least, but it barely soothed the wound that fear and shame had created.

Symmetra considered reporting Moira the night it had happened, but to whom would she report? Akande? Moira sat on the council with him and he didn’t strike her as the type to care about such... actions. She couldn’t tell Sanjay. To him, she would be the troublemaker that caused tension between Vishkar and the Ministry. And her friends? Would that be the sort of thing she could confide in them? There were no easy answers, and she opted to suffer in silence.

She and Junkrat had held up their end of the mission. They’d managed to take down defenses, allow Talon to invade, and while the militia attacked, they’d hunkered down in an empty coffee shop, waiting to see if their services would be called upon once again. And it was there that Junkrat began to ask her a question; a question she already knew with an answer she wasn’t sure she was ready to give. _Bad timing... it’s always bad timing between us. Not that he would know._ It made her furious the more she’d thought about the lasting damage of Moira’s actions, but her thoughts ceased when they heard the footsteps echoing so much louder than the gunfire all those miles away.

The source of the sounds wasn’t a Helix soldier, but a woman! She was short, plump, with full cheeks and thick glasses carrying a rucksack and tablet under her arm. She ran towards their hiding spot constantly looking over her shoulder in worry, and behind her floated a little blue bot with digital eyes that mirrored her trepidation. Junkrat had his launcher aimed right at her but lowered it the moment he saw that she posed them no threat.

“Whatta’ we do?! She’s gettin’ close?” he whispered.

“We can’t let her spot us! Hide!” Symmetra whispered back, and crouching low, they hid behind the counter. Soon enough she’d pass, and hopefully without noticing their packs and supplies on the ground.

“Quick! Into the coffee shop! That’s a good place to hide!” the woman ordered the bot, and Symmetra heaved an internal sigh. _Of COURSE, this is where you’d choose to hide!_ Junkrat scowled in annoyance, his back leaning up against a metal refrigerator.

From her angle, Symmetra could just make out the top of the woman’s head, her brown hair tied up in a messy knot. A chair screeched as she pulled it back to have a seat, and she huffed and puffed from the exertion of running so far.

“Snowball! Can you get a signal?”. The little bot made a sound of reluctance, and the woman groaned.

“I'm not even sure what’s going on! I was just doing some readings and the security guys told me to run! I don’t even know what happened to the others! I hope everyone is alright!” she rushed, giving a little whimper. A pang of guilt cut through Symmetra’s heart. _This poor woman must be a researcher!_ She was just peacefully doing her job when Talon dropped in, and here she was running for her life with no way of getting ahold of anyone she could trust. _This... this is wrong, isn’t it?_

Junkrat gave her leg a small nudge and mouthed “what do we do?!”. What could they do? If the researcher spotted them, she could make a break for it and possibly find someone! But still, she didn’t want to bring her any harm. Symmetra brought her finger to her lips to remind him to keep quiet, which only seemed to annoy Junkrat further. _Oh, and what would YOU have me do?!_ Was he insinuating they try violence? A sobering thought occurred to her. She may have cared for him, but he was still Jamison Fawkes; thief, arsonist, mad Australian bomber, and violence was very much an option for him.

“The fighting seems to have stayed near the dig site. I guess I can just wait it out for now...That’s what they came for, I guess. Doctor Winston said it would be dangerous,” she said, continuing to talk to herself. The more the woman spoke, the more her voice kept prodding Sym’s memory. She recognized the woman and her voice from somewhere, but where? _She’s... she’s that polar researcher! The one who’d been stuck in cryosleep and forgotten! Oh, what was her name? Was it... Mei... Mei something?_ She'd seen her interviews on the news networks; about her awakening, finding all her colleagues dead, and her harrowing escape from the forgotten facility.

“Well, since we're going to be here a while... I wonder if there’s still some tea here. Might steady my nerves... There’s got to be a kettle...” she mumbled to herself as she stood back up, and Symmetra grit her teeth. _Oh we’re doing this now, aren’t we?_ Fate, unfortunately, was forcing their hands. Before she could say anything, Junkrat blindly leaped over the counter to grab and subdue her.

Mei squawked in surprise as he landed in front of her and tried to grab her, but her bot flew right into his face, cracking his nose! Symmetra had also vaulted over the counter and grabbed her wrist while she was distracted.

“Bloody fuckin’ bot!” Junkrat barked cupping his nose (which was already starting to bleed).

“We’re not going to hurt you!” Sym quickly soothed, and Mei stopped struggling. The blue bot circled back around, diving towards Junkrat’s face like an angry wasp. He swatted it away with the back of his prosthetic hand and it fell to the ground temporarily stunned.

“Snowball!” Mei cried, and then gave Junkrat an livid sneer.

“Enough!” Symmetra hissed, trying to bring an end to the scuffle, “I repeat, we’re NOT going to hurt you!”. Mei’s eyes never left Junkrat.

“Tell that to your nasty friend!” she snapped. Junkrat reached into the pocket of his tactical belt and pulled out a rag which he used to wipe the blood away.

“Never hurt you, Pint-Size!” he countered, “Wouldn’t mind dismantling that little bucket of bolts you got there,”. Snowball’s display screen went blank before restarting, and it popped back to life. It slowly hovered in circles around Junkrat with angry little eyes fixated upon him before flashing a light to illuminate the cafe.

“You had it coming, you big bully!” she muttered under her breath before looking around to finally size up the situation.

“You’re not with Helix,” she flatly stated, and she raised an eyebrow, “but you don’t look like those soldier guys either. I saw a couple running...”. Symmetra wasn’t sure how to respond. She’d never taken a prisoner or hostage, and she’d rather not start right there. After looking at them a little longer, Mei’s eyes lit up.

“You’re that bomb guy! The one with the big reward!” she yelped at the realization, and Junkrat snorted. He did have a pretty memorable face, after all, and she wasn't surprised that the researcher recognized him. Mei’s eyes narrowed, and Symmetra instinctively rested her free hand on the photon projector at her side. Mei rounded on her.

“And you! I recognize you, too!” she said. Symmetra took a step back.

“Preposterous!”.

“You’re... you’re that lady! From that magazine!” she blundered. _Did EVERYONE read that damn magazine?!_

“Snowball! Get help!” Mei ordered while Sym was temporarily taken aback. The bot zipped out of Junkrat’s reach and crashed through the glass window. It shook off the shards and flew out of sight. Symmetra hissed a few obscenities and grabbed her projector. Mei howled for a moment as the blue beam locked on, and fell to the floor unconscious.

“Sym... She knows ya’,” Junkrat murmured as he looked down on Mei’s sleeping form.

“She recognized you, too,”. He gave Mei a little nudge with his boot to make sure she was properly asleep.

“Yeah, but... but you're not s'posed t’be here. With Talon, I mean. If she talks to anyone-,”.

“Who will believe her? The lighting is low and she is panic-stricken,” Sym interjected, regretting not firing on her sooner with every passing second. Junkrat grimaced.

“Just sayin’, Sym. She’s gonna’ blab. Even if no one believes her, you think yer boss is gonna’ be alright with that? Think 'bout how mad he got th'first time you were spotted,”. He was right, of course. Mei had gotten a good long look at her, and would likely remember her when she regained consciousness. And even if no one believed her report, Sanjay WOULD get word of it, and there would be hell to pay.

The scientist remained curled up at her feet, and the longer she stared at her, the more frustrated she got. She’d never been so angry at a civilian before. _How DARE you come here, and ruin my life?! Is this what fate has in store for me? Was I destined to fail?_ Her brow furrowed even more as she continued to stare at the sleeping scientist; innocent, save for her transgression of knowing too much. Symmetra heaved a frustrated and reluctant sigh.

“I won’t harm someone for simply looking at my face," she said, giving into her conscience, "Hide her behind the counter so she can remain safe until she comes to. We’ll find somewhere else to wait this out,”. Junkrat did as she ordered with a worried look on his face. He wasn’t particularly gentle about it and nearly dropped her on the way over. With a loud thump on the unforgiving concrete floor, she was finally tucked away. She’d suffer a couple bumps and bruises but would be no worse for wear.

They packed up their gear yet again and carefully searched for a new spot through the winding streets and alleys. The gunfire and rocket blasts continued unabated, and the sounds grew a little louder. The fighting had advanced closer to them. Symmetra felt uneasy, but Junkrat didn’t seem terribly bothered.

“Target reached!” Reaper announced; a general call that went through every headset still operating. Helix would be too busy trying to stop them to even think about patrolling their borders.

“Clipped their wings. They’re going to have to fight on foot now,” Sombra added. Junkrat smiled to himself as they came to a small village square centered around a bronze sculpture of an ancient Greek war hero; the only bit of open space they’d found upon their casing.

“Som’s pretty handy in a pinch,” he quietly noted over his shoulder, but his smile vanished and his eyes squinted as he looked upward.

“What th-... bats?” he started to ask, and she followed his line of sight. _No... it's not a bat..._ She honed in on the little orb flying high above them. Zooming in on her headset, she could see that it was Mei's little robot, and it wasn’t alone!

“Are those... bots?!” Junkrat piped as he realized what they actually were. A wave of various appliances and research equipment came swarming their way! It was mostly scanning drones similar to the ones that floated through Oasis, but there were even a few mindless kitchen assistants that had been brought out of Helix’s mess hall equipped with knives and cleavers (and one confused one holding a spatula and whisk).

“She sent Snowball for help and it brought its own army!” Symmetra gasped. Had they not been coming for them, the situation would seem almost laughable, but every one of them contained a camera lens, and that became a real problem. Junkrat dropped his packs and grabbed his launcher. He quickly loaded a few grenades and began to take aim.

“Oh, this’ll be good!” he grinned.

And thus Symmetra and Junkrat began their own firefight. He lobbed grenades and threw concussion mines; unbelievably loud and disorienting in spite of her headset. She fired blasts at all the little computerized enemies, quickly whittling their numbers down. Junkrat was in his element, and he gleefully destroyed any of them that dared approach him. She was well aware that he was no friend of anything that remotely resembled an Omnic.

They only sustained a few injuries. Snowball had taken it upon itself to personally crack Junkrat in the nose (again), and Symmetra gave it a quick zap, knocking the tiny pest out of the air. Whether she destroyed its CPU was yet to be seen. Snowball was a tough little thing, that was for sure.

The kitchen assistant with the spatula came to retaliate and slapped her arms and stomach repeatedly while twisting the whisk in her hair. Suddenly the ridiculous thing was no longer humorous but alarming as it started pulling her down. She yelped as it painfully tugged at her hair and spun her around. Junkrat came from behind and grabbed each of its arms. He ripped as hard as he could, eventually pulling the metal limbs off. Sym quickly untangled her hair from the metal whisk before firing right at the bot’s head.

After destroying two more scanning drones, Snowball’s uprising was defeated. They puffed heavy breaths from the excitement, and even let out a few chuckles. The fight had been absurd, but she had to give credit to Mei’s resourceful little assistant. With better-equipped soldiers, they would have proved a considerable threat.

“That was... so... fucking... stupid!” Junkrat said, cackling between breaths.

“Agreed!” she chuckled back, “But thank you! That one took me by surprise!”. Junkrat opened his mouth to say something, but a loud blast at his feet knocked them both back! She’d hit the pavement, scraping up her side, and she coughed through the cloud of dust wafting around her. Panicked, she scanned for Junkrat, and made a horrifying discovery!

Their battle with the bots had been too loud and attracted the attention of Helix. A rocket blast at close proximity had blown Junkrat back and he had slammed against a stone wall! He was covered in dust and ash, blood trickled from a gash on his forehead, and he wasn’t moving! _NO!_ She scrambled to her feet, only to roll on a broken ankle, and the pain shot up her leg, forcing a gasp of pain past her lips! She forced herself back up and limped to her fallen partner. His eyes were barely open, but she saw the glint of his pupils shining and his cracked lips parted to say something. A flash of blue caught her eye, and hovering in the air was a Helix soldier; one who’s gleaming wings Sombra somehow hadn’t managed to clip. The soldier took aim with a rocket blaster, and Sym did the only thing she could think of. _NO! REALITY... BENDS TO MY WILL!_

She’d created shields before, but never one so huge! It was a vast wall of transparent blue hexagons, stretching upward and outward so far that the soldier had no hope of flying over it. The enemy’s wings gave a sputter, and they began to slowly descend. Their wings may have been functioning, but they quickly discovered that their fuel supply was finite. Determined, the soldier hit the ground and walked right up to her.

Symmetra’s eyes darted around, trying to find her projector. It wasn’t far away, but it was on the other side of the shield and smashed to bits. She grimaced with tears stinging her eyes. Junkrat gave out a choked gasp. He was fading fast. And then the soldier did something completely unexpected. They gave the shield a few knocks to test it out and frowned at its resiliency before taking off their helmet. The soldier was a woman! She stood tall and proud with dark hair and fierce eyes. A black tattoo circled one of her eyes, and she stared down at her.

“You can’t keep this up forever,” she told her. Symmetra looked at the wall, which was very slowly starting to lose panels at the edges. One by one, the hexagons started to chip away. She was right. An unsolidified creation that large lacking a sustained power source would fall apart in mere moments, and her time was running out. Symmetra’s real hand was shaking, and she continued to look for a weapon. Junkrat choked and gurgled a little more, and she reached for one of the grenades on his harness. Grim realization coursed through her. _Am I to be fated such an awful end in this life?_ The soldier aimed her wrist right at her with yet another rocket to fire, waiting for the wall between them to vanish.

“A bird on its belly should mind the cats!” came a disrupting shout, followed by a violet orb speeding towards Symmetra’s attacker! The woman dropped her helmet and repositioned her aim, but the orb began to suck and grab at her in a way that was very familiar to the architech, and from the sounds of it, it was an equally unpleasant experience. Unable to escape its grasp, she collapsed to the ground and the purple cloud evaporated.

“Damn!” Moira hissed as she approached to assess the situation. She rounded on Symmetra just as the last of her shield wall vanished.

“The target has been acquired! We need to leave and- IS HE ALIVE?!” she gasped, alarm and worry in her voice as she finally took notice of Junkrat's damaged body. Symmetra was too disoriented to stop her, much less process what had transpired between them only a few days prior. Moira dove down to Junkrat’s side and brought her hand to cover his face.

“Moira, don’t-,” she began to stammer, but the woman ignored her and proceeded to spray something over Junkrat’s nose and mouth.

“Junkrat, if you can hear me! I need you to breathe!” the medic instructed, and he must have heard her at least a little bit because the choking and gurgling sounds stopped and were replaced with shallow but steady breaths.

“Damn!” she hissed again, looking behind her at the equipment strapped to her back.

“My canister is completely empty!” she grit, and pulled a tool out of a pouch at her side. It proceeded to scan Junkrat and the prognosis did not look promising.

“This is... very not good. He is hanging on for now, but I need to get him to the biotic respirator on the ship if there’s any hope to save him,” she informed before finally turning to acknowledge her.

“Are you alright?” she asked, somehow calm and collected. Wasn’t that a loaded question?

“I broke my ankle, I believe. He... the rocket. It hit close to him. Knocked him into the wall, I think. It all happened so quickly. I couldn’t see for sure,” she stammered. Moira frowned and looked at the screen of her scanner.

“Sounds about right, given his list of injuries... I’m sorry, Satya. I have nothing left here to help your ankle, but once we get aboard I’ll have one of the other medics patch you up,” she informed. Symmetra nodded and crawled on her knees to gather her broken projector.

“I need an extraction. Two in tow. Both incapacitated. Stretcher and crutches,” Moira ordered as she activated her earpiece. She waited for a response, and it didn’t seem entirely positive because she gave another fierce frown.

“Show some damn respect, Gabriel. They’re the two who got us into here in the first place,” she snarled. After another pause for a response, her scowl lifted.

“You have my thanks,” she said, and once again turned her attention to Symmetra, “Help will arrive shortly. Can you create some crutches for yourself?”. She nodded that she could and began to do so.

The gunfire had stopped. The silence was eerie. Helix had given up and retreated, and quickly a different sound began to rush in; the dropships that they’d all ridden in on, and the footfalls of Talon soldiers making their getaway. She saw a shadow come towards them, and the form of Reaper solidified in front of her. Two soldiers came up behind him pushing along a floating stretcher.

“No medics?” Moira asked. Reaper shook his head.

“Caught in the crossfire,” he replied in his steady but gravely voice. The doctor helped the untrained stand-ins properly load Junkrat onto the stretcher before helping Sym stand up and handing her the hardlight crutches. She hobbled behind them, struggling to keep up.

“What about her? She’s still breathing” the taller of the two soldiers asked, nodding towards the enemy still unconscious on the ground. Reaper paused, studying the woman’s face. He turned back around and led the party towards the nearest dropship.

“Leave her... We got what we came for,”.


	20. Ch 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symmetra falls apart as she watches Junkrat struggle for his life. Later, Junkrat wakes up in the infirmary to find a couple surprises awaiting him. Sym has another call with Sanjay, and she contemplates leaving Talon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: the first paragraph of this chapter has a few graphic descriptions of injuries. I read it to my husband who, who squirmed in his seat, so if you're squeamish, just skip right over it.

Moira pushed Junkrat’s stretcher along as fast as she could, barking at anyone standing in the way to move. Symmetra followed behind her, struggling on crutches with an unbraced broken ankle. She clenched her teeth, hissing out what would have been pitiful whimpers as the pain of each step coursed up her leg. It was nothing, though. Really. Who was she to complain when everyone else filling up the infirmary ship looked to be in far worse shape? One man was clamping tightly on a gash on his forearm that was bleeding profusely. A woman next to him tried to cover her face. Between her fingers, Sym could just make out that her eyeball had popped out and was hanging by ocular cords. _Oh my Gods!_

“Respirator!” Moira shouted at the nearest medic scrambling around an influx of patients. He took one look at Junkrat and tossed his tablet onto the nearest counter. He rushed over, grabbing the other end of the stretcher, and pulled Junkrat’s unconscious form up towards a tank filled with some sort of yellow glowing gas. From there, he grabbed a mask, hooking it over each of Junkrat’s ears and fitting a couple small pieces over his mouth and nose. Scanning equipment began to take his vitals and record his extensive list of injuries. Sym couldn’t read them well from where she was standing, but the list was long and both Moira and the medic’s faces looked grim,

“I hate to say this, but this is a waste of resources. This guy’s a goner,” Symmetra heard him mumble as she dropped the broken pieces of her projector onto an empty cot, and her heart lurched!

“He lasted this long. At least give him a chance,” Moira instructed. There was a loud stomping, and the ship nearly shook with each step. Sym glanced over her shoulder, knowing it would be Roadhog. He took one look at Junkrat and came bounding over.

“Besides, would you like me to tell HIM you let his friend die to save a tank of nanobiotics?”. The medic gulped, came to a wise decision, and shook his head no.

“Moira! Your presence is required on the containment ship!”. Akande had popped his head through the open door, beckoning the doctor with a wave of his hand.

“I believe my services-,”.

“REQUIRED, O’Deorain,” he said, emphasizing his order. Moira gave the medic one last mumbled instruction and turned around. Roadhog had reached Symmetra’s side and gazed at Junkrat, now breathing from the respirator with sensors beeping and screens glowing.

“We’re trying our best,” Moira quickly assured them both as she passed by. She disappeared from sight, and Symmetra shuddered. The handful of trained staff left behind was scrambling to assess what order to treat everyone, and from the look of injuries and sounds of pain, she would be last on the list.

“What happened?” Roadhog rumbled, looking at her for answers. He was splattered in blood, though not from any wounds he may have sustained. In truth, he seemed to have come out of the fight unscathed. Sym could feel her hands trembling, and she gripped her crutches even tighter.

“A rocket hit the ground. It was close. Very close. The concussion knocked him into a wall,” she managed to stammer, and it was beginning to set in; how close he was to dying, how close she’d come to dying as well, and the knowledge that everything around her was starting to fall apart. Roadhog continued to look back and forth between her and his charge, finally glancing at her injured leg.

“You need t’sit,”. It wasn’t a suggestion. Roadhog ordered her, and she couldn’t fight him on it. He pointed at the cot she’d dropped her projector upon, and he took her crutches away before helping lower her down. He grabbed an extra pillow from one of the other empty beds and slid it underneath her foot to better prop it up.

“Broke it?” he grunted.

“Seems that way,” she mumbled. Her teeth started to chatter as though she were cold, even though she was starting to sweat. Her breaths were growing short. A breakdown was looming, and she would have given anything she could at that moment to not let it happen there in front of all the people on the ship, nor Roadhog, nor...

“YEAH, OKAY, KINDA’ GOT A PIECE OF METAL STICKING OUTTA’ ME, SO SORRY I HAVE TO SIT THIS ONE OUT! I’LL SEE YOU BACK AT BASE!” Sombra bellowed over her shoulder as she boarded the ship as well. Temporarily distracted, Symmetra and Roadhog whipped over to see a very angry hacker stomping towards the nearest medic with a piece of metal lodged above her armpit, and her arm hanging limply at her side. The dark turtleneck she wore hid the streams of blood running down her limb, but a trail of drips followed her path.

“Look, you got anything to fix this?” she snapped. The medic sputtered that he did and he just needed a moment. Either she took priority over the foot-soldiers around her, or he didn’t feel like suffering her wrath.

“We need t’get yer boot off. Check fer swellin’,” Roadhog rumbled, bringing her attention back. Symmetra nodded, just allowing him to do what he pleased. She could feel the zipper along the side slide down, and he pulled the boot off with one quick tug. She gasped at the sensation and followed it with a grimace to prevent tears from falling. _Such an inconsequential injury. So stupid._

“Sorry,” he said and studied her foot and joints, “Swollen pretty bad. See what I can do,”. Symmetra laid her head back on the pillow, willing herself to go numb. Numbing herself was better than crying or rocking back and forth, or beating her head and tugging her hair like she did as a child before she left her home for the Vishkar Academy. _Stupid! Stupid! I’m an idiot! Everything is falling apart! He’s going to die! He’s going to die! I am a failure! I wasn’t meant to be here! Stupid! So stupid!_

“Heard ‘em say they’re not gonna get t’everyone b’fore we land, so I took what I could. Found an ice pack an’ a splint, an’ some aspirin, too. Ain’t much, but it’ll get ya’ started,” Roadhog said after a few minutes of wandering around the supply cabinets. He hunched down and gave her a couple pills and a paper cup filled with water. Silently, she took them from his massive palm and swallowed them. He scooted down towards her foot, and gently put the ice pack over her swollen ankle.

“When th’ swellin’ goes down, we can splint it up. Might have t’wait till tomorrow t’get it proper fixed,”. Symmetra held the empty paper cup in her hand, running her finger along the rim in soothing circles; a never-ceasing rhythm to calm her.

“Roadhog?”.

“Yeah?”.

“Why are you helping me?”. She didn’t mean for the question to sound so rude. She was always a person who preferred to get straight to the point, but many people found it to be awkward, and it took her a long time to work on her wording to prevent her choices in phrasing from causing disagreement.

“I like helpin’ people... well, some people, anyway. Don't like bein' useless... An’ I can’t help him,” he started, looking towards the respirator and the man struggling for his life. The beeping from the machines and scanners seemed less erratic; the tank of biotic oxygen partially depleted. Perhaps Junkrat had fully stabilized. She hoped he’d pull through. She didn’t think she could bear it if he died.

“So I can at least help someone I like who needs helpin',” he added.

“I don’t need a sedative! Just pull the fucker out and close me up!” Symmetra heard Sombra bark, and the medic complied. There was a loud shriek of expletives, but soon enough she was patched up, and she came over to her and Hog.

“I need a drink,” she coughed as she plopped down on the cot next to them. She instinctively reached into a pocket for a pack of cigarettes but found it empty, which was just as well, as the ship’s engines started up and the wide doors were beginning to close. Take off was imminent, and the cots were locked in place.

“Bad ankle, huh? Hey... hey, where’s Toasty?” Sombra asked, having finally noticed that one of their group was missing. Roadhog calmly pointed at the bed next to the tank, and Sombra hissed a worried sigh.

“Fuck... what happened?”.

“Rocket hit close by. Knocked ‘im into a wall. Broke Sym’s ankle,” Hog quickly filled in on her behalf. Symmetra was thankful she didn’t have to talk because she could feel her returning tremble growing out of control, and she carefully rolled onto her side to rock back and forth while staring blankly at the wall across from her. Her breaths shortened, and she tuned everything out.

“Woah! Sym, you okay? You need me to get someone? I can get-,”. Roadhog cut her friend off by placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Get her a blanket” he ordered.

“Yeah... yeah okay,” Sombra replied, and pulled one over from two beds away. Symmetra didn’t even acknowledge them as they spread it over her, but the sensation of being covered felt relieving. She tugged the brown scratchy blanket over her head, leaving only a small gap for air. She relished the dark and the barrier between her and the rest of the world around her. The sense of seclusion, the idea that no one could see her as she fell to pieces; it was exactly what she needed.

Suddenly she felt something warm and heavy on her side, and it took her a moment to piece together that it was Roadhog’s massive hand. There was something even more comforting in the weight and warmth holding her down. He didn’t try to stop her rocking. He just allowed his arm and palm to move along with her.

“I’d do this fer Rat sometimes. Helped ‘im when he got too worked up after a close call. Helped bring 'im back t'center,”. Whether his explanation was meant for her or Sombra's benefit was hard to tell, but neither of them made another sound and allowed her to rock to heart’s content. Perhaps he was lying. Perhaps not. Perhaps it didn’t matter at all.

_Everything is falling apart... and I’m going to lose them all..._

 

**.           .           .           .           .**

 

Junkrat’s eyes slowly opened to somewhere warm and comfortable, but far too bright. As his vision focused, he could make out the digital clock on the wall that read 11:07. The room was both familiar and sterile, and the sounds of sensors beeping here and there finally tipped him off that he was in the infirmary back at Talon HQ. His brain was foggy, so he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of that. What could he have possibly done to land him there? The last thing he remembered was heading to Ilios.

“Did it work?” he mumbled, assuming there was someone listening.

“Did what work?” Roadhog asked. Junkrat smirked. Hog was there, alive, just like he knew he’d be. He turned his head towards the sound of Roadhog’s voice. His neck popped from the motion, and ever muscle from his chin to his collarbone screamed with stiffness. Hog was sitting in a wide chair in front of a window that looked out into the hall of the rest of the infirmary, where doctors passed by paying them no mind.

“The catapult, you drongo,” he said with a weak huff of a laugh, as though the answer were obvious. His head was swimming a little from what he assumed were the massive amounts of painkillers he was on.

“Yeah,”. _Good. That’s a good thing..._

“Sym alright? Som?” he wondered, his eyes growing a little more adjusted to his surroundings. He felt naked, too, but he assumed he was in one of those thin hospital gowns they made people wear (he was correct in his assumption).

“...yeah...” his friend eventually answered, but there was something about his hesitation that began to make Junkrat feel uneasy. Hog wasn’t a liar, though (not for something like that) so they must have been fine.

“Hog... why’m I here?” he asked, feeling his speech slightly slurring.

“In a bit of cosmic irony, somebody decided t’try blowin’ you up fer once,” Hog explained. Junkrat immediately wiggled his fingers, and though pins and needles prickled up and down his good arm, he could tell it was still there. He could feel the uncomfortable tug of the IV needle from his movements. Next came his toes, and he confirmed he still had his good leg, too.

“Heh... guess they fucked up,” he grinned, and Roadhog snorted a touch of a laugh.

“Only reason you’re blinkin’ is ‘cause of Sym watchin’ out for ya’... an’ Moira,” he said, adding the doctor’s name as an afterthought. Junkrat grimaced at the mention of her. He was thankful to be breathing... but why did it have to be her? Sym, on the other hand? She was turning out to be his go-to hero, and the idea of her in a spandex suit and cape started to form in his mind. Super Sym. Light Lady. The Beautiful Bombshell. Now there was a thought he’d save for later!

“How long have I been here?” he yawned. Though only conscious for a few minutes, his body was still weak and exhausted, and the medications dripping through his IV certainly didn’t help.

“Three days... yer body started rejectin’ that biotic stuff, so you’re healin’ up th’old fashion way. Guess fer some people it only works fer so long b’fore yer body stops likin’ it,”.

“Huh,” he chirped as though it were just an interesting fact, “When can I get outta’ here?”. Hog shrugged and said he didn’t know. After looking at the clock again, he noted it was nearly lunchtime and he was starving. Junkrat said he’d be alright, provided he’d bring back something for him because he was noticeably ravenous too.

“Glad t’see you up, mate. I’ll be back later,” Hog said, waving goodbye as he passed through the doorway. After his friend left, Junkrat noticed the table running along the window, which held his peg leg and arm just out of reach. He grumbled at the annoyance but laid his head back on his pillow. He turned his head to the other side, and nearly jumped with a start, because he saw that there was another person in the bed next to him!

The man was awake, staring at the foot of his bed, and scowling. His dark skin (which had almost a grayish hue to it) was marred with scars, including a notch missing from his nostril, most of an ear missing, and his lips split with an old gash. From what he could see, the scars continued down his neck and beyond the hem of his hospital gown. His thick eyebrows were knit together; the same color as his short cropped hair, and maybe Junkrat was just imagining things, but his eyes looked blood-red.

“G’day!” he piped with a friendly little wave.

The man didn’t turn to acknowledge him.

“...hey...” he returned, his voice gravely and kind of familiar. It struck a part of Junkrat’s brain that put him a touch on edge, though he couldn’t really tell why.

“Me? Got almost blown up!” Junkrat explained, as though the man hadn’t heard anything that transpired between him and Hog.

“I know,”. Junkrat drummed his fingers on his knee.

“So why’re you in here?” he asked, looking around the sterile room, vacant of any other beds.

“The other rooms are full,” the stranger answered; an insufficient explanation. _Git!_

He took the time to examine the room; glowing chart screens, a couple televisions hanging in view, two tables at either side of their beds. His roommate’s tabletop was bare, but Junkrat’s was a mess of candy wrappers and a box of crackers (most likely left behind by Roadhog). But something else caught his eye. There was also a glass vase filled with plants; bright yellow sunflowers. They were on the small side, but their cheerful blossoms all seemed to be pointing right at him, as though smiling back.

“Flowers?” he wondered out loud. The roommate’s eyes flicked to the vase.

“Yeah. You got flowers,” he grumbled.

“What for?” Junkrat had only ever been in a proper hospital a couple times with Hog, and he certainly never remembered there being a bouquet before. The stranger next to him rolled his eyes.

“What do you mean what for?” he asked, incredulous, “It’s a gift. A get-well-soon type thing. Supposed to cheer up sick people,”. Junkrat studied the little blossoms further, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, they put a smile on his face. Junkertown wasn’t exactly a prime habitat for thriving flora, so seeing something so vibrant and alive next to him was so... well, he couldn’t exactly put it in words, but Roadhog had actually taken the time to gift him with it, and honestly he always knew the big lug was (deep deep deep deep down) a softy.

“Aw! That’s real nice’a Hog!” he said.

“It wasn’t the big guy,” his roomie informed. Junkrat sat up a little at that revelation.

“Wot?”.

“Wasn’t him. It was the women from Vishkar, Symmetra”.

“Sym? Really? When’d she stop by?” Junkrat asked excitedly, not realizing how happy he was beaming.

“Last night. Your friend was asleep in the chair,” he explained. Junkrat kept grinning at the blooms, finally understanding why people brought flowers to hospital patients. She was thinking about him, and the idea of it all warmed his heart in a way nothing else ever came close to.

“Yeah. Yeah, she’s sweet like that. Always thinkin’ nice things. Probably didn’t want t’wake Hog up,” he sheepishly replied, a blush turning his cheeks pink. The roommate twitched his nose and gave a rough cough,

“She’s th’nicest person I know,” he said, and sighed, “Y’know what? I’m a lucky guy,”. The man slowly turned his head, his eyes narrowing.

“You almost died in an explosion,” he reminded.

“Yeah, but I DIDN’T. ‘Cause she took care a’me! See, we got each other’s backs like that! Like me an’ Hog, too. I’m lucky. I got good friends. Real good friends. She’s one’ah th’best! Kept me alive. Brought me sunflowers, too. Gave me a real nice present on m’birthday,” he started, and thought about her little kiss, “Two of ‘em, actually,”. At this, the stranger laid his head on his pillow and stared at the ceiling.

“Adoration,” he grunted. Junkrat wrinkled his nose in confusion at the man’s comment.

“Wot?”. The man rolled over onto his side, turning his back towards Junkrat.

“That’s what sunflowers mean. Adoration,”.

_Adoration..._

The man fell asleep a few minutes later, and he didn’t bother to try waking him up. He grabbed the remote for the TV and flicked it on, and then adjusted his bed so he was sitting upright. With the volume set low, he tacked through the channels; many of which weren’t in English. The first thing he could find that he could actually understand was a news channel, and the headlines on the screen were all about Talon’s attack on the Ilios dig site. The anchors had the story wrong, though. Helix claimed Talon was there to steal technology from the security group, and the crack in the ground wasn’t holding dark matter at all, but was a source of a natural gas leak. A cover-up; it was all a cover-up. The Grecian government didn’t want the world to know that they too had found a massive deposit of dark matter.

“Talon showed it’s true face that night, and we at Helix will not soon forget,” a woman said into a microphone being held by a reporter. Her fierce eyes gazed back into the camera; a black tattoo circling one of them. Though the sight of Helix jarred a bit of his memory, it was still a jumbled mess in his mind. He could recall fighting bots, but they were on the small size and not much of a challenge. He couldn't remember why he and Sym were doing that. It seemed so silly right then. Maybe he’d remember more later. He flicked to a different channel, discovering that some sort of soap opera was just starting, and that was something he could recall.

“Hm. Looks like m’show’s on,” Hog grunted as he came thumping back into the room. He had a plate filled with a little bit of everything from the mess-hall in one hand and a bag of comic books in the other, and he slid the plate on a rolling tray. He pushed it over, settling the tabletop over Junkrat’s lap so he could eat. Before Junkrat could tuck in, Roadhog reached over and helped him reattach his arm so he could have a better-functioning limb.

“Doc said you can eat, so have at it,” he informed, settling back in his chair, turning his attention towards the screen. Junkrat wasted no time digging in, enjoying the taste of chips and hell, even the salad was pretty nice.

“Roland! Don’t you see I love you? I always have!” a smartly-dressed woman on screen whispered, gaining Junkrat’s attention (despite the few snores coming from the man one bed over). The camera panned to some man with long dark hair tugging on a leather jacket. He rubbed his chin, looking away from her, and climbed onto a gleaming black and silver motorcycle.

“I love you too, Dana... and that’s why I have to go!” he insisted in a husky voice.

“What th’shit kinda’ talk is that?” Junkrat snapped.

“Quiet! I missed th’last episode!” Roadhog ordered and returned to the program. The couple was bickering about some ridiculous plot device as to why he had to take off; something involving an evil twin’s secret love-child with a father-in-law’s second cousin twice removed who was actually royalty all along. Apparently, Hog could follow along, but he couldn’t. Whatever it was that was driving the man to leave didn’t seem to stop him from passionately kissing her, leading Junkrat to project himself and someone else into that moment.

“Roland, I adore you! Can’t... can’t I come with you?” she softly pleaded. _Adoration..._ Roland sighed but gave her some sort of knowing smile as he revved the engine.

“Well gorgeous,” he said all cool and smooth-like. He slid forward, and patted the spot behind him, “I guess I never could say no to you!”. Dana happily hopped on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, and the pair sped off into the sunset. The show cut to a commercial for a moment, breaking his concentration (along with the beginnings of another daydream).

“They’ll be back. Roland’s got that business t’finish with his step-dad’s trial against the princess he framed fer robbin’ his jewelry store three seasons ago, an’ Dana still needs t’confront th’midwife who switched her nephew with Renee and Dylon’s baby at th’hospital,” Hog noted, assuring Junkrat that he hadn’t seen the last of Dana and Roland. He’d never tell his bodyguard (because the man could easily flatten him with a single blow), but some of the shows he watched were downright ridiculous.

With Hog confident that Rat was going to be okay, he left shortly after to get himself some proper rest of his own, leaving the patient to his own devices and the stack of comics to thumb through if television grew boring. He kept looking longingly at his arm, wishing he could get ahold of his hardlight glove so he could practice some more. He flexed his jaw and jutted out his lower lip in thought.

“Er, ah... Ares?” he asked. He’d never requested anything of the AI before and was worried he was doing it wrong when the silent pause dragged on.

“Oh! Agent Fawkes! You don’t typically call on me! Well, I suppose there’s a first time for everything. How may I help you?” the voice asked, sounding polite and obliging for once.

“Er... can I call Sym?”.

“I’m sorry Agent Fawkes, but I don’t know who or what Sym is,”.

“Oh! Er... I mean Symmetra... Satya Vaswani,” he clarified, speaking her real name for the first time in... ever? Her name rolled off his tongue, feeling unnatural. They’d decided to use each other’s code names quite some time ago, and the habit just seemed to stick. He very much liked the idea of using her real name now that they'd known each other for so long, and perhaps he could convince her to call him by his. She'd make his name sound dignified; beautiful, even.

“Apologies, Agent Fawkes. Agent Vaswani is already on a call and is marked as Do-Not-Disturb. Would you like to leave a message?” the voice asked.

“Sure!” he chirped. It was better than nothing. A screen popped up, indicating that it was recording his face.

“Uh, hey! Look, I’m awake! Just wanted t’say hi... not sure how long I’m gonna’ be stuck here. I thought it’d be nice t’see ya’ when you get a chance. Maybe try some hardlight? Er... guess that’s it fer now... ummmm... oh! Thanks fer the flowers! Really nice of ya! ... I adore ‘em!” he tried, and immediately regretted it because it also sounded so weird coming from his mouth. He couldn’t recall a single time he’d ever actually spoken the word out loud, and now he knew why. He figured it would be best to end the conversation before he said something else that sounded stupid and wiggled his fingers in a little goodbye, “Ta!”.

Still tired and weak, he went back to sleep, and didn’t wake up until the middle of the night at the sounds of screams and roars! His eyes snapped open at the familiar sound, now so much louder than what echoed through his bedroom vents. Most of the lights had been turned off for the overnight hours, but he could still make out most of the room, and as he turned his head to the side, he noticed something peculiar. His roommate was gone!

Things began to fall into place; the raspy voice, the cheerless undertones of his statements, the many scars from years of battle... his roommate was none other than Reaper! _So... so what’s he doin’ howlin’ like that?_ It wasn’t the first time he’d heard those sounds of anguish, but why now? What was happening to him to cause such horror? The tortured echoes eased, and Junkrat settled back into his bed. He wouldn’t be falling back asleep anytime soon, but he supposed Reaper wouldn’t take kindly to gawking or questions. As footsteps slowly approached his room, he laid his head back down and feigned sleep.

“I swear to God it only gets more painful every time,” Reaper weakly coughed from exertion. Junkrat kept his eyes shut and couldn’t tell who he was talking to... at first.

“I suppose it’s a good thing that the space between your treatments is growing... You still have been pushing yourself too much recently. Ilios was a mistake,” Moira replied. This set Reaper to laughing, though the sound was pitiful.

“Mistake, eh? Should I take the dark matter back to Helix, then? Apologize for the casualties?”. Moira pulled the fabric curtain to surround Reaper’s bed, giving him more privacy. Junkrat dared to sneak a peek, although all he could spy was Moira’s silhouette against the fabric.

“Gabriel... you need to take it easy. I know we’ve made strides in your rehabilitation, but,” she started, but Reaper broke out into a nasty coughing fit that lingered for an uncomfortable length, “but it won’t make a difference if you keel over from overexerting yourself. You still have limits!”. Reaper grumbled something or other while Moira hooked him back up to his monitoring equipment.

“When do you start those human trials?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“In a few days... I still have to finalize one more volunteer,”.

“Hm... You really think the dark matter can fix me?”.

“That’s my hope, Gabriel, among many other things. People like to write me off as some mad scientist; like the evil Doctor Junkenstein from those old Halloween tales... But all I want... all I’ve ever wanted is to eradicate mankind’s weaknesses,”.

 

**.           .           .           .           .**

 

Junkrat was asleep when she arrived at his room. The man in the bed next to him had his curtain drawn around him, allowing her a sense of privacy. She looked Junkrat over, all stretched out in his bed. He was resting more comfortably. His breathing seemed more natural. Roadhog had told her the previous night that he’d be getting out the following day if the doctors were to be trusted. She debated waking him but thought better of it. It was still very early and he still wasn’t fully recovered. Instead, she grabbed the vase of sunflowers off of his side table and went to fill them with fresh water.

According to the message he’d left her, he adored the flowers; such an odd choice of words coming from the Junker. Adore? Well, it seemed she’d made an ideal floral selection. Sombra knew of a florist who would bring a truck up to the little village not far from base, and the two had ridden out together to grab a bouquet. Something about the bright and sunny blossoms spoke to her. They must have spoken to him too because he liked them and they cheered him up, and seeing his face alert and smiling in the video had soothed her injured pride from yet another horrible meeting with Sanjay.

Yes, she’d been recognized by the climatologist, though word had it no one believed her for a second. It was night time and she’d been knocked unconscious, after all. Who knows what sort of things her sleep-addled head might have conjured up in her dreams? But Sanjay said she’d been careless. She should have just killed the woman off to erase her tracks. And then the unexpected had stupidly popped out of Symmetra’s mouth.

“Why did you even choose me in the first place?”. Sanjay’s face had grown red, but while he was temporarily rendered speechless, she decided to speak more openly.

“Clearly I am not meant for this job. My face is too recognizable these days. I was told that I would be performing similar tasks here as I was for the corporation, but that has not always been the case... I have no stomach for means of violence, Sanjay... Would it not be best for me to return to Vishkar?”. He stammered that that decision was not for her to make, nor even him.

“Do you wish me to alert the Council of your failures?”. His words cut, much like they always did. _Failure. That’s what I’ve become, haven’t I?_ _This was what Vishkar sent me to do; follow all orders Talon gave me... and here I am, begging to come home..._

“The Council will be very disappointed to hear this. They think so highly of you, after all,”... And Sanjay did it again. His negativity switched to honey-sweet words and compliments, tearing her down while also reminding her to stand tall. She could make peace with being a failure in her own eyes, but the Council? Would she really cave to her weakness?

“Are you sure you’re prepared to let Vishkar fall, when we’ve worked so hard to achieve so much?”. Symmetra’s hands had trembled, and she could feel her stomach quaking. Her heart slammed in her chest, only this time, she didn’t have a blanket tightly wrapped around her, nor Roadhog’s heavy hand gently comforting her.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore, Sanjay,” she murmured, not looking at the computer screen. He paused for a moment, and his face softened perhaps for the first time in his life in a display of actual empathy.

“I’ll... I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, perhaps you can speak with Doctor O’Deorain. She has a way of swaying Talon’s own council to make certain exceptions when necessary. Perhaps they can repurpose you into a less combative role?” Sanjay suggested. Another twist of the knife. She’d never be able to tell him what had transpired between her and Moira.

“Listen, Vaswani, I have to go... I’m sorry things have fallen so low for you... I really will do my best to help you,” he said, and the call was abruptly terminated.

The water in the vase began to overflow into the sink, snapping her away from the negative memory swirling in her mind. She dumped the excess out and placed the sunflowers back inside to rehydrate. Back they went onto Junkrat’s side table, though she found herself standing still and looking down at him.

_I wish you were awake..._ Junkrat would smile and crack a joke and she could smile, too. He was the only of only few people she was close to who never asked her of anything or to be anything other than herself. There was no pretense about him, no want to or need to please others, and in a way, she was jealous of that. He was his own man. How badly she wished she could be her own woman again. _I... I thought I was... I am, aren’t I?_

She wasn’t ready to leave his side yet. As it stood, she had no pressing business to attend to. In fact, she wasn’t dressed for work at all. She’d stayed in casual clothes; her t-shirt and jeans that Sombra had deemed unacceptable for a night out. She pulled up a chair and took a seat. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. She hadn’t brought anything with her to occupy her time. She didn’t want to turn on the television for fear of waking him or his roommate, so that only left silence and gazing.

She looked at his face; his closed eyelids, the twitch of his eyebrows and nose. He’s dreaming. She wondered what of. All of her dreams as of late had been nightmares, and she kept waking up alone wishing she had anyone there next to her to remind her that she had nothing to worry about. In an active military base completely surrounded by people, she’d never really felt so alone.

She reached over and gently stroked the side of his face, dwelling upon her precarious grasp on her life. Her path before her was starting to fracture, and she wasn’t sure which way she’d have to go. _...wherever I go, I hope I won’t have to say goodbye to you._


	21. Ch 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira learns that Symmetra is considering leaving Talon, and she hatches a plan to prevent it. Symmetra speaks with Sanjay concerning her request, and he may have a possible compromise for her. Later, she joins a fresh-from-the-infirmary-Junkrat in fixing up Sombra's motorcycle, and experiences some very unexpected sensations.

Moira overlooked the people filing into the waiting room of the experimental facility through the observation window up above. Low-ranking soldiers, convicts, and the destitute; all of them drawn to the prospect of a hefty payout for volunteering to undergo experimental procedures and for keeping silent about it. When you had nothing, you had nothing to lose.

The other lab techs and doctors milled about, preparing for one final health scan before the test subjects would all be processed for quarantine. It was a momentous occasion. Her life’s work would soon advance by leaps and bounds. Nearly a decade of planning and execution was finally culminating into something... beyond comprehension. And yet, the excitement she’d anticipated just wasn’t there. Instead, she felt equal parts worried and livid; her situation precarious. Ilios had been a heavy cost for Talon, and she hoped beyond hope that it would be worth it all in the end.

Then there was her own personal life. Why should something so inconsequential continue to weigh on her mind? She had bigger, world-changing things on her plate; not the woman who spurned her advances for some... human refuse. She should have just let him die. It would have been so easy. She could have claimed he was too far gone and wasn’t going to make it. Vaswani would have easily bought that excuse. No doubt losing her “friend” would have broken her heart, and she could have made it up to her by being there as a shoulder to cry on, because who else would she have to turn to? Vaswani's only other friends were a hacker of dubious reliability and a behemoth lacking the social graces of a sea slug, let alone an actual human being.

It could have been a fresh start towards an actual relationship. She could have set things aright by making up for her transgressions. Instead, she'd made the mistake of being kind to the Junker. She'd fought for him to live in hopes to seem less of a rival and more of a friend who cared (though, to be fair, she still hadn't expected him to actually pull through). Her feigned empathy backfired and only seemed to bring Vaswani closer to him. Flowers! She'd brought him flowers! And she had even spied the woman tenderly stroking the man's face while he slept. More salt sprinkled on such fresh wounds.

_Now is not the time to dwell upon such things. It is now my time to shine, and I can’t do that if I focus on them... She made her choices, and now she'll have to live with whatever consequences come of it. She’ll regret her decisions soon enough._

"Everything is running on time for Stage One, Doctor O'Deorain," another faceless lab partner announced.

"Excellent," she replied without so much as turning to acknowledge her. Her handset chirped a little alarm, reminding her it was time to leave for the Council meeting. Akande wanted to discuss Ilios, much to her dismay.

It was all the same story; another meeting that could have just been an email. Akande was upset with the heavy body count. Max (who'd actually flown in with Korpal to be there in person) was displeased with how expensive the operation ended up costing. Gabriel was concerned with possible Helix retaliation.

"We left no trail," she reminded them all. Akande gave a low growl.

"That we're aware of," he said, and flicked his holoscreen, "I sent Sombra last night to Egypt. She'll be monitoring the situation there, and alert us if that changes,". _Good. At least I won't have to worry about her prying into my business and skulking about my labs._

"Fortuitous timing. I appreciate you keeping her away from my research. Particularly during these vitally important first days,".

"I learned a long time ago to keep an eye on the ambitious ones," Akande replied as he eyed everyone around the table with an icy stare and suggestive smirk. The meeting continued with Lacroix detailing Helix's losses (which were also substantial). With scheduled matters run through, Akande opened the floor for new developments or any other concerns. Max mentioned some new business opportunities worth pursuing with everyone feeling positive he'd make the correct calls. When it came to money, it was always better to leave the calculating to the member with pre-installed business algorithms.

"There is... one matter I wish to discuss," Korpal said, clearing his throat almost nervously. _Odd. That pompous oaf is never nervous..._

"It is about our mutual liaison, Vaswani," he started, immediately catching Moira's attention. She steepled her fingers and waited for him to continue.

"She has been proving to be rather troublesome lately, and wishes to return to Vishkar,". Akande seemed genuinely surprised at the announcement, but Moira didn't. _Running away from me, Vaswani? You didn't even give me a chance to make things up with you. You should be at my side right now... How stubborn you've grown._

"I will admit this hasn't come entirely as a surprise to me. While she has always been willing to please authority, she has grown rather disobedient as of late," Sanjay explained.

"Disobedient... I did not realize Satya was an insolent child," Lacroix quickly shot, her voice ever calm, though icy. Sanjay stared at her with a rather dumbfounded look upon his face.

"I do not understand, Korpal. She has followed orders perfectly since joining us. Her work is exemplary," Akande countered, and it had been.

"As ridiculous as this sounds, it's her conscience, I believe," Sanjay added.

"Well there's your problem," Gabriel interjected with a huff in place of a laugh.

"She wishes to play a less combative roll in the organization," Sanjay continued. Akande frowned at the announcement, as did she, though she supposed for vastly different reasons.

"Helpful as she has been, she hasn't earned that right yet. Everyone here must be willing and able to competently fight when ordered. If she does not agree with the terms we put forward and does not wish to continue here, then she may leave at any time, provided you supply us with a substitute that equals her skill set," Ogundimu allowed. Sanjay reluctantly frowned.

"Her skills in hardlight are worlds beyond anyone else at Vishkar, and we have no one who has ever come close to her infiltration capabilities," he shamefully admitted, no doubt feeling like a failure for being incapable of keeping his employee under control and boxing himself into such a corner. Moira's eyes frantically darted around the room as the prospect of Vaswani leaving slowly grew to reality. She couldn't let it happen. She WOULDN'T let it happen! And then her eyes settled upon Lacroix, and an idea began to take shape.

"Sanjay... what if I were to tell you Talon may have a way to handle that troublesome conscience of hers?" she offered, dangling her mysterious suggestion enticingly. Korpal tilted his head to appraise her, trying to see if he could figure out her intentions of his own accord. By the darting of his eyebrows, he did.

"Is that something you'd be capable of doing?" he wondered out loud. _Capable?!_ She may not have joined with Talon during the time the experiment actually took place, but she'd studied it intently after she personally witnessed the findings. It was risky (downright dangerous, in fact), but the end results had been astounding, and she was more than confident in her own abilities to replicate Talon’s creation.

"Sir, you wound me," she said and turned her attention back towards the only other woman in the room.

"How would you like a protege, Lacroix?".

  
**.           .           .           .           .**

  
Sanjay and Max had taken the opportunity to stay on base for one more day to tie up loose ends, which allowed Symmetra the chance to speak with her supervisor directly without worry of him conveniently being "called away" on other business matters. In this, she would finally have the upper hand. He would have to hear everything she had to say, and he'd have to answer her on the spot. This didn't stop her from feeling a touch anxious, though.

"Vaswani! You are looking well," he said, looking up from the conference table barely a moment after she entered the room. She stopped dead in her tracks after crossing the threshold, because sitting in the chair next to him was Moira! As usual, her fingers were steepled and she gazed calmly, though intently, right at her.

“Thank you,” she murmured back and took a seat across from them. _Why is she here?!_

“Forgive me, but I thought this was to be a private discussion. Have I been misinformed?” she tried, giving her supervisor a subtle nudge. Sanjay smiled broadly, though as always it never met his eyes.

“No, you have not. Doctor O’Deorain has been included for reasons that will become obvious momentarily,” he replied, eyeing her in a way that read 'What is wrong with you?!'. Sanjay brought up a few files on an illuminated screen to appear better prepared and cleared his throat.

“Last week you called me, and requested a change to your contract with Talon for a less-combative role with the organization, did you not?” he started. He’d switched himself over to his professional, though cold, timbre of voice, meaning whatever he had in mind was to hopefully be set in stone by the end of the meeting. In a way, it was encouraging to her. He’d set forth to make actual changes for her.

“Yes, sir. I have been having... personal difficulties performing such tasks that require subduing enemy targets via physical altercations. While I have done my duties to the best of my capabilities, I worry that I will not be able to continue performing to Talon’s satisfaction,” she answered, keeping her own tone equally professional and cold. Losing herself to emotional outbursts never got anyone anywhere.

“I see,” Sanjay noted, and clicked at his screen before looking back up at her, “You have previously made such requests at Vishkar as well,”.

“Yes, which was when I was offered the position here at Talon. I was under the impression that from here I wouldn’t have to face such requirements,”. Sanjay gave her another fake smile. She distinctly remembered that promise being made by him and the other Vishkar board members, but as with most business dealings, some things ended up getting cut out of her final contract.

“And it seems there has been an error in communications. The Talon council was not made aware of your personal verbal agreements when Mr. Korpal nominated you for the position here,” Moira said, giving Sanjay a bit of “side-eye”. He cleared his throat again, unable to deny Moira’s words.

“Ah, yes, well, I had hoped perhaps that once you’d settled in here, you’d be motivated to play all the roles asked of you. That was my misjudgment,” Sanjay admitted.

“As I have stated before, I am not personally comfortable with utilizing means of violence. I understand its necessity to achieve Talon’s end-goals, but I am not mentally capable of performing such acts,”. Sanjay clicked at his screen some more.

“And Talon is understanding of this situation, which is why I’m here to make you an offer,” Moira said, her voice growing gentle.

“Yes, Doctor O’Deorain and I have discussed the matter personally, and have found a compromise. Combat capabilities aside, you have been a phenomenal asset to Talon’s cause in both engineering and design, as well as your espionage tactics. They’d be very upset to lose your talents and skill-set, and propose that in lieu of having to take part in direct combat, perhaps you’d be interested in helping in their scientific advancements,” Sanjay explained. Symmetra paused. Was he suggesting she join the doctors and researchers in the labs? The prospect seemed promising, if not thrilling, but that would put her closer to Moira’s office, and though the doctor had apologized and even gone above and beyond to help save Junkrat, she still wasn’t comfortable with being in such close proximity to her.

“That sounds... interesting,” she answered, unable to hide the slight hesitance in her voice.

“We would not be working together directly. It's my job just to go over the findings,” Moira hastily added, perhaps sensing Symmetra’s discomfort, “As you know, we have begun our human trials with dark matter and gene manipulation. So far, the experiments have been a rousing success, but there has been one particular experiment we haven’t had the chance to get to yet, and that is human bioluminescence,”.

“Oh!” Symmetra remarked, surprised with what ideas they had in mind.

“We wish for you to be the pioneer in this breakthrough... Think about it, Vaswani. Think about what it would mean for both you and Vishkar if architechs needn’t rely upon gauntlets to generate hardlight! There’d be no worries of other corporations reverse-engineering our products, nor security programs backfiring to hacker attacks. All an architech would need... all YOU would need is just our patented crystal lens!” Sanjay explained, sounding so confident and triumphant.

“You... wish for me to take part in an experimental procedure as a test subject?” she stammered. It all sounded so fanciful and unreal; straight out of a science fiction novel! But something dark was beginning to stir in the back of her mind.

“It would require me to come into proximity with the dark matter, wouldn’t it?” she murmured. Moira frowned and shook her head.

“No, not directly. I know how uncomfortable it made you feel, and I have no intention of subjecting you to something of that nature. A sample of your blood would be taken, the dark matter would help us rewrite your DNA accordingly, and that information would then be programmed into nanobiotics. Once those machines know what to do, they would be safely reintroduced into your system and slowly make the changes in your body. Not a single drop of dark matter will come into physical contact with your person,” Moira assured.

Symmetra took in a breath to think it all over. Nanobiotics were considered a safe technology. As far as she knew, her body had never displayed any negative reactions to them, unlike Junkrat, whose system began to reject them a day after returning to the base. She’d never have to touch the dark matter and would be under constant observation of Talon’s medical staff.

“The rabbit you’ve successfully performed this upon... is it still alive?”. Moira gave a confident smile and started tapping away at her own computer screen.

“See for yourself!” she said, turning the window around for her to observe. It was a live video feed of the rabbit’s cage. The creature milled about sipping from a water bottle before turning back to a dish full of fresh vegetables. A little blue dot on its forehead pulsed steadily away as it remained undisturbed. Symmetra was no professional when it came to animal rearing, but the rabbit looked healthy enough and showed no signs of distress.

“Of all our subjects, Seventeen has remained the most healthy and active. She has displayed no signs of of mental or physical distress. In fact, only two of the other test subjects have died, and both from causes outside of our experiments... Escaped mice found their way to the emergency exits and our trackers led us to a very full python in the forest outside,” she explained, ending with a look of minor annoyance. _Well, I doubt that would be a fate I’d have to worry about..._

“How long would this experiment last for?” she wondered. Moira’s eyes flicked to Sanjay before settling back on her.

“Due to the sensitive nature of these procedures, you’d need to be quarantined from anywhere between two to four weeks. After your immune system proves sufficient, you’d be allowed to return to your dormitory and lab, though you’d need to report daily for a physical examination for at least another month. I know it’s asking a lot, but we want to ensure your safety through all of this,” Moira explained. Symmetra clasped her hands together, running her thumb in circles around the edge of the hardlight lens as she thought things through. _It’s... an uncertainty I’ve never considered facing... but it would mean I could hold up my end of the bargain with Talon without ever having to face combat again... I wouldn’t have to leave in shame... I’d still be able to stay here with my friends. Plus, I’d take a direct part in a groundbreaking discovery, and I would be something... otherworldly!_ The idea of being able to take her gifts to an unprecedented level also sounded very appealing. What WOULDN’T she be able to do if she could be her own source of light?

“I... I need some time to think about it,”.

Moira and Sanjay understood, of course. It was no simple thing to ask of her. Moira said she would email her the full amended contract for her to look over. They were, however, a little crunched for time. They said they’d need her final answer by the end of the following day. She supposed that would be a suitable time to come to her decision, and she left the room with a heavy-weighing mind.

Dinner time rolled around, and she was not looking forward to yet another lonesome meal. With Roadhog posting up in the infirmary with Junkrat and Sombra away on reconnaissance, she’d spent a majority of her meals sitting alone in the mess hall or eating at her desk in her room. When had silence grown so upsetting? It was best not to dwell upon such matters. She didn’t need to heap more onto her plate. That was what prawn dumplings were for.

She slid her tray down the line, patiently waiting her turn to grab one out of the chafing dish, but familiar groans eked out of the people in front of her. The space where the metal bin typically rested was completely vacant. Roadhog had been by. And if Roadhog had actually stopped by...

“Sym! Aw, Sym! It’s good t’see ya!” a memorable voice called the moment she entered the cafeteria. Junkrat practically shot out of his seat waving his hand over his head. Though he still looked a little gaunt, his eyes were bright, his movements were unhindered, and his smile beamed from across the room. She wouldn’t necessarily say she was “rushing” to his table, but there was a bit of a spring suddenly in her step. She sat her tray down and immediately caught him in a hug before she could convince herself not to. The hug must have come as a bit of a shock to him too because she could feel his breath momentarily still, and slowly he brought his arms around her.

“It’s... very good to see you up and about,” she quietly said as she rested her chin on his shoulder, perhaps as a form of explanation.

“Feels... feels good t’be up,” he replied, and they both quickly pulled away. Why did the embrace have to feel both so good yet so awkward? She quickly took her seat next to him while Roadhog did the same. He popped his dish open, shoved up his mask, and went at his usual dumplings as if it were any other Tuesday and nothing was even slightly out of place.

“So you have made a full recovery then? No physical therapy or aftercare?” she asked, hoping to spur a conversation and return to a normal pattern of things. She craved routine right then, more so than ever before. Junkrat had already shoved a bite of something or other from his plate into his mouth before looking back up at her.

“Hm? Naw. Doc faid I’m fine. Heawed wight up!” he said through packed cheeks. Normally, something as crass as speaking with a full mouth would have irked or even disgusted her, but, as was often becoming the case with him, she forced herself to brush it off and ignore his poor table manners. She was just happy to see him not stretched out on a gurney fighting for his life.

“That’s good,” she noted, and tucked into her own food, waiting for someone else to pick the conversation back up. It didn’t take long.

“Fom called me!” Junkrat piped, and swallowed what was in his mouth, “She asked me t’take a look at ‘er bike now that I’m walkin’ ‘n talkin’ again,”. Symmetra dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

“Oh?”.

“Yeah. Said she meant t’ask before we left fer Ilios, but fergot. Even left th’keys on m’desk already. ‘N then, y’know, almost carked it,” he explained, “But Hog filled ‘er in that I didn’t, so she said if I was up for it... Guess it’s been runnin’ rough. Thought I might go after dinner. Poke at it a bit,”. Business as usual. He hadn’t even been out of the hospital bed for more than a couple hours and already he was going to tinker a bit.

“Y’wanna’ come take a look with me?” he asked.

“I’ve... never worked with vehicle engines before. I don’t know how helpful I would be,” she admitted. Junkrat just shrugged and slurped down his soda.

“Mainly just lookin’ fer some company... that actually wants t’talk,” he said, adding the last part with a grin. Hog grumbled; his upper lip curling up in a sneer.

“I talked to ya’ plenty,” he corrected. Symmetra couldn’t blame Junkrat for going a little stir-crazy. She probably should have visited him more while he was in the infirmary, but every time she walked by, he was either asleep, or Roadhog was there and alert, or the scarred man in the bed next to him was staring intently at the television. It all had lent itself to that awkward feeling, and part of it was due to her wanting privacy when she spoke with him.

“If it’s company you want, then I will join you,” she said. Perhaps she’d even learn a thing or two from him concerning motorcycles.

She’d hoped the hangar would be empty, and it was (for the most part). With it being more of an auxiliary building, there wasn’t much need for constant attention. A bored looking security guard buzzed them in, barely looking up from the book he was reading. He didn’t even bother to inspect Junkrat’s toolkit.

Sombra’s motorcycle remained in the far back of the hangar next to the Junkers’ beloved “Mayhem Mobile”, which Junkrat used to hang his kit off of. He bent down into the sidecar and fished out a ragged towel, which he spread out on the concrete floor between the two rides. He quickly straddled Sombra’s bike, inserted the key, and revved it up. The purple motorcycle gave a loud guttural blast to start, causing Symmetra to cover her ears. After a moment, it idled into a dull throbbing buzz, which was much different sounding than she’d remembered when she had once again clung to Sombra’s back on the short ride to pick up the flowers. Where it used to sound like an angry little wasp on the prowl, now it appeared that the wasp was sluggish and drunk, and it struggled to stay afloat. Junkrat frowned at what he observed and killed the engine.

“I am no expert, but that doesn’t sound good,” she said, unclasping her ears. Junkrat chuckled a bit.

“A very astute observation, Sym,” he said with a grin, “Problem is, doesn’t tell me enough of what’s wrong. Guess that means I get t’do a full tear-down,”. Something about his tone of voice told her he didn’t really mind that prospect. Perhaps he was just lying, inventing extra work for himself, or just looking for an excuse to take something completely apart.

It didn’t take him long to pry apart the outer casing, and once set aside, he gazed at the inner workings of it all. It wasn’t exactly what she expected. Though Sombra’s ride was a newer floating model that ran smoother than the Junker’s antique contraption, she still expected it to be a mess of grease, dirt, and discolored metal. Instead, apart from it being dusty, it was a neat and orderly machine that she could follow along by eyesight alone. Junkrat cocked his head to the side with a look of determination in his eyes.

“Never took apart somethin’ like this b’fore... Wanna’ give me a hand?” he asked.

“Of course. How may I be of assistance?” she helpfully replied, clasping her hands behind her back as she awaited orders. He dug through his pack and pulled out a fistful of clean rags.

“Alright, when I give ya’ a part, I need ya’ t’clean it off, an' then, I dunno’... is there a way you can label it? Keep ‘em nice an’ organized until I’m ready t’put ‘em back all nice an proper? I know you like keepin' things tidy,”. That she absolutely could do. She nodded her head in agreement, and quickly put together a work table so she could better organize the multitude of pieces and parts.

Junkrat set to work dismantling it all piece by piece, handing each one to her, which she wiped clean with the rags he provided and created little hardlight placards for each one with their names etched in. She would come back later with her projector to dismantle her temporary creations. Throughout it all, he’d make a little comment here or there in personal observation.

“Not that... That looks fine... Got no clue what that thing-o is called...That’s a floaty bit...What the... Oh! Oh, well there’s ‘er problem,” he mumbled along, his face beginning to grimace.

“What is it?” she asked, her curiosity piqued. His frown only grew and his brow furrowed.

“Maybe look away?”.

“Junkrat, what is it?”.

“I’m serious. It ain’t pretty,” he warned. Well, now she HAD to know.

“Just tell me!”. With a defeated sigh, he pulled out some limp cording... only, it wasn’t a rope or band at all.

“Dead snake,” he answered with an uncomfortable sneer, slowly extracting it from some piping. Symmetra gasped as he finally removed the last of the poor lifeless creature. It was easily a meter and a half long!

“Oh!” she yelped, quickly turning away from the grizzly mess.

“Yeeeaaaaaaahhhh,” he groaned, finding the nearest empty bin to dispose of it. _The poor thing... I suppose wildlife encounters such as this are not unheard of when you’re so far removed from city life._ He located the closest wash station and scrubbed his hand and prosthetic vigorously.

“I hate touchin’ dead things,” he grumbled and went back to work. He’d ask her for each piece, which she’d hand over to him.

“Gravity coil,” he requested. She grabbed the neatly labeled metal spiral off the table and handed it to him.

“Yes doctor,” she said with a smirk, and he giggled under his breath. Just as quickly as he’d pulled the engine apart, he’d pieced it all back together. He motioned that he was going to start it back up and she clamped her hands over her ears. The engine revved, and this time it went back to its normal high-frequency buzz. Appeased, he turned it back off and just sat on it appreciatively.

“I like this bike... little small for me, though,”. Sym thought about it for a moment, looking over him as he sat. She never was one who typically went for “bad boys”, but then again, she’d never seen herself as one to go to a biker bar, get drunk, and kiss said bad boy. And he definitely fit the title right then. His long legs straddled either side of the bike as he hunched forward to grip the handlebars. His shirt hung loosely off of him, giving her a glimpse of his chest. She could imagine him on a bike of his own. His ride would be custom built, of course. It’d probably look scrappy and constructed of recycled parts, and would most assuredly sport a grinning face somewhere on the paint job. It would absolutely have rubber tires. Perhaps he’d wear a proper jacket; something more protective than what she’d worn on her first ride out.

“Wanna’ hop on?” he asked, shaking her from her thoughts.

“Hop on?”.

“Yeah! Wonder what you’d look like ridin’ somethin’ like this,” he grinned. She folded her hands together, eyeing it apprehensively.

“Don’t worry,” he said, as though capable of sensing just that, “I’ll make sure you won’t go tearin’ off!”. She bit her lip with doubt, but his assurance of the machine staying put made her wonder what his game was.

“You’ll make sure it stays in place?” she asked, needing to hear his confirmation yet again.

“Promise!”. He was satisfying a daydream of his, too. She came upon that realization as he clambered off the bike, offering her the seat. He wanted to picture her on it. Riding it. Enjoying it. She could never be that person for him in that regard, but she would oblige his fantasies, at least. She’d consider it a celebratory gift for surviving a near-death experience.

Symmetra hesitantly grasped the left handlebar, swung her leg over, and straddled the seat just as he had a moment ago. She bent forward, trying to mimic the position Sombra held while they had ridden together, but felt ill-equipped for it, as she was dressed in a silk blouse and neatly-pressed black slacks.

“Like this?”. Junkrat nodded and began to walk around while rubbing his chin. His head would tilt at different angles, as though trying to absorb every aspect of the image. What did the imaginary Symmetra look like? Was she wearing a leather jacket in his visions? She’d have to inform him that she didn’t approve of leather. Was she wearing a helmet? _She had better be!_

“Wanna’ go fer a ride?”. In retrospect, the question was an inevitable one, but it still caught her off guard.

“Oh heavens no!” she quickly shot. Junkrat just kept snickering, enjoying himself perhaps a bit too much.

“Not a real 'venture, then... What about just startin’ it up?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows. Symmetra leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. She pinched her lips in disapproval.

“I don’t care for riding motorcycles, Junkrat. They are loud and dangerous, and will only ride one if it is the only means of transport available. I am sorry to disappoint you,” she retorted. He wasn’t crestfallen, but his smile had vanished.

“That’s ‘cause you’ve never been th’driver. Think ‘bout it. You’ve never been th’one in control. It’s different. Way different. Maybe if you’re the one callin’ the shots, you might actually like it,” he suggested. _Control... It’s been a while since I’ve felt that..._

“Very well...” she hesitantly started, “I will start it up. BUT! That’s as far as this will go,”. There. She could entertain his fantasy of seeing her ride with clear-cut boundaries she could live with. Her acceptance pleased him.

“And a helmet! I need a helmet!” she curtly added, quickly remembering that she still had one in the sidecar of the Mayhem Mobile. He was already bent over the side of the car, fishing it out. After offering it to her, she slipped it on and tightened the latch under her chin. _This is stupid! What am I thinking?!_ Junkrat stepped around and leaned behind her. She was VERY aware of how close he was, and she swallowed hard. _I’m... having a learning experience! That's what this is! A learning experience!_

“Alright, lean fo’ward,” he instructed, and she did.

“I put it in neutral already. Grab th’clutch, That’s your left,” he said, his hand curling overtop of hers as she gripped it, pulling it towards the handlebar. She swore she could almost feel the heat from his palm overtop of her gauntlet.

“An’ now here,” he gently ordered, carefully doing the same with her other hand, “That’s th’brake. Fig’ered y’might like ta hold that one down, too,”. Yes, very much so! She vowed to never let that one go! His prosthetic thumb nudged hers, pushing it downward.

“That’s th’switch t’start it up. When you’re ready,” he said, his hands lifting offer hers until she could no longer feel them. Her heart began to race with anticipation. (Anticipation for starting the engine, of course. She reassured herself repeatedly that that was why her stomach began to fill with butterflies). _It’s now or never..._ She couldn’t even recall actually pressing the button. Her hand had reacted before her brain had finished giving the command, and the switch gave a little click before she felt it all come to life beneath her!

The engine was so much quieter with her helmet on, but her feet started to pull off the ground, leaving only her toes to graze the concrete. She’d forgotten that it was a floating model and that sort of thing was to be expected, and she exhaled a little in surprise! Or, was that from the vibrations suddenly pulsing between her legs?

_Oh! Oh my!_ On her only other rides, she’d been so knotted up with fear and anxiety that she’d barely acknowledged the sensations, but there at a standstill with her hand tightly clamped on the brake, she could fully appreciate them. It was nowhere near as pointed or intense as any sex toy she’d ever used, but the tingling was there none the less, reverberating up her torso.

She also didn’t expect to feel quite so powerful. She was atop a motorcycle, prepared to take off into the night. She was like a spy on a mission (ignoring the fact that she actually was a spy who’d gone on many missions). In that moment, she felt, well... _I’m... I’m a badass!_

“That’s... that’s enough,” she said, feeling her words tremble in her throat. Junkrat was no longer behind her, but right in front of her.

“Just hit the switch t’ turn it off,” he said, and her thumb did her bidding. The engine calmed and everything settled back to the ground. Her feet were firmly planted, though a shiver still ran through her body. She could feel her helmet being pulled off and he dropped it to the floor with a sharp clatter. Once again his hands were on top of hers, only this time there was skin to skin contact. Heat radiated from the tips of his uncovered fingers, and the fabric from his glove pressed against the top of her hand.

“You can let go of th’brakes,” he quietly reminded her, and her grip lessened, if only slightly.

“What diddja' think?”. His hands still remained over hers.

“I... I didn’t care for it,” she partially lied. There was no way she'd ever tell him about the vibrations that made her body come alive and the butterflies still fluttering in her stomach. She gazed upward, her eyes locking with his. They were such a beautiful shade of amber with flecks of warm honey circling his slowly-dilating pupils.

“No?”.

“No,” she continued to lie, even as her thighs continued to tingle with an electric sensation.

“It’s... loud and dangerous,” she repeated. He leaned down until his face was only a couple inches from hers.

“So am I,” he whispered. His lips brushed softly against hers. _So you are..._

His kiss began to deepen as his hands gripped hers a little more tightly. It felt good. No. Amazing! It was just the right amount of pressure; strong, but not domineering. Wanting, but not lustful. Patient but not discouraging. He was waiting for something. He was waiting for her! When she felt ready, her lips parted for him. He still waited; for her tongue to wind around his, for her breath to quicken, for her hand to come and rest on his shoulder while his circled her behind her and came to a stop on the small of her back.

_“It’s loud and dangerous,”._

_“So am I,”._

But was life without a little danger?


	22. Ch 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sym decides to go through with the experimental procedure, but not before taking one final night to enjoy herself. Junkrat is given a contract to sign, and he is very eager to perform the services requested.

She initialed next to the portion of the waiver that said her immune system would be compromised for up to a month and that she would need to remain in quarantine. She initialed again to give permission to the Talon medical team to use her personal records in their research. Again she marked an SV next to the part that stated whatever happened to her would remain confidential and would not be shared without her express consent. Towards the end of the packet came the long list of possible side effects of the procedure: nausea, dizziness, blurred vision, blindness, seizures, extreme nail growth, hair loss, heart palpitations (to name a few). The list continued for a full page before a caveat at the bottom highlighted that due to this being an experiment, there was no knowing what exactly was applicable on the list. They were merely covering their bases as a formality. She scribbled those same two letters. And lastly came one final waiver; the death clause.

Should something terrible happen to her, no one of the medical staff and research team would be held accountable. She almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the addendum. After all, it wasn’t like she had anyone in her life to raise a fuss should she die. That bit of gallows humor made her lopsided smile quickly vanish. _I have no one..._ She gave a sharp exhale, pushing the thought aside. It was just a standard medical waiver, much like the one she had signed for the surgery for her gauntlet three years ago. The only difference was that this one also allowed for the research staff to use her body afterward for further study. _It will be of no use to me anyway. Who would even remember to spread my ashes?_

With one last flourish, she signed the bottom of the extensive packet and scribbled in the date, but hesitated to send it down to Moira’s office. Instead, she quietly sat at her desk and held it in her hands. Her eyes unfocused from it until all the letters blurred and became hazy gray lines. She glanced around her room, empty of trinkets, mementos, and photographs. It was just like her apartment back in Utopaea. She used to say it was because she didn’t care for clutter, but now the openness of the room just felt spartan and lifeless.

A decade ago, she assumed she’d have a partner of some sort. Marriage, perhaps? Certainly not children. She never had a desire to raise a child and went through voluntary sterilization quite some time ago. Life went on for her, and while she’d met a few people along the way who’s company she enjoyed, none of it offered any lasting fulfillment. She’d never even come remotely close to considering marriage with any of them. Hell, she could barely remember her last date that wasn’t the horrible night at the opera with Moira, let alone her last real sexual encounter. Well, she supposed the previous night’s kiss was at least a nudge in the right direction.

It had been one hell of a kiss and was quite possibly the best she’d ever had. How, though? How could it possibly have come from him, a man who didn’t own a single button-down shirt?! She quickly recalled the cherry stem at the bar perfectly tied up in a knot and she blushed to herself at the reminder. _Oh! Right. His tongue is prehensile._ He’d proven once again to have some very unexpected talents and qualities. The kiss was long and deep and had stirred something up inside her, and had she remained in the hangar much longer, she was sure she would have melted into a puddle.

At least she had that positive memory to keep with her. She could think about it for as long as she’d like while she remained in quarantine and... utterly agonize over it. A possible month with having that ever-present question hanging over her head; what was officially going on between them? Were they going to start dating? Did Junkers even know what dating was? Were they just going to be “friends with benefits”?

“We’d actually have to have the benefits part first before we consider that title,” she muttered to herself with a sigh, and then something in the back of her brain began to stir. _Yes. Benefits!_ She was going to be away from him for at least two weeks, if not more! And there was even a possibility of her never coming back from it! She didn’t want this life of hers to end with an embarrassingly long dry spell, and if his reciprocation of the kiss were any indication, he would probably be interested in what she had in mind as well. He’d almost died, after all, and death was a powerful aphrodisiac. It was now or never to ask! She set aside her freshly signed contract, opened up a computer screen, and proceeded to type up one of her own.

  
**.           .           .           .           .**

  
Oh, her kiss was DYNAMITE! There she was, atop a motorcycle, her head tilting upward to face him. Her eyes slowly closed the closer she inched towards his face, and that was the universal sign that she was going to kiss him right back. And her tongue! Dear god, her TONGUE! It wrapped around his, and he swore on his life that he’d never tasted anything so uniquely sweet! This wasn’t any ordinary pash, because all he wanted to do was hold her there for the rest of his life and just let her keep doing what she was doing. Slowly, however, she moved away from his grasp. Her lips were swollen, her eyes were almost glazed over, and her pupils were dilated. By all accounts, she had enjoyed it. She pulled back and got off of the motorcycle. After a moment of standing motionless, she fumbled for words.

“I... I, um, need to get back to my room. I have paperwork. I just remembered,” she clumsily stammered, ending with a breathy chuckle. She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and turned around.

“Goodnight, Junkrat,” she said over her shoulder, the tiniest bit of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She had liked it! SHE FUCKING LIKED IT! The moment she’d vanished out of sight, he nearly collapsed on the floor. Every bit of it had been so amazing. He’d never kissed a woman like that before (at least, that he could remember). Slow, sensual, alluring; he was a fan, to say the least. And he was right proud of how smooth he’d gone about it, too! That line he’d used sounded so cheesy in his head but he still went with it, and rather than laughing at him, she damn near lunged at him! His ego was firing all cylinders, blazing at a level that he hadn’t felt in years!

He couldn’t sleep that night. The moment just kept replaying over and over in his head, and for a moment he almost convinced himself to march down the halls to her room and confidently knock on her door and see if she was in the mood for a repeat because holy fuck was he willing to accommodate! A lone ounce of common sense told him not to. It would be better to build up her anticipation. He flopped onto his bed and stared at the ceiling with a big stupid grin on his face. Maybe she was still thinking about it, too. That was a gratifying thought. No mate. _Pump those brakes. Don’t get yerself all riled. Maybe she liked it. Don’t mean she wants to toss ya’ down an’ have her way with ya’! ... Fuck, I would absolutely let ‘er, though!_ Once that image was in his head, there was no stopping it, and he just let his imagination (and his hand) wander down that path.

The next morning, he felt an urge to try impressing her some more in the most un-Junkrat way possible. He opened his small closet, forcing back a pile of odds and ends from spilling out. Suspended in plain sight was the only bit of clothing he’d ever bothered hanging up properly; his suit from Paris. Sym had liked him wearing that VERY much, but he wasn’t a complete knob. Wearing something like that out of the blue would be ludicrous, so instead, he just pulled the shirt out from underneath the jacket, and fished a clean(ish) pair of jeans out from the “only wore once” pile. After sniffing the clothes to see if they were fresh enough, he gathered his shower caddy and a few other items to change into and walked to the showers.

The shower felt good, too. In his mind, he was scrubbing away old, dirty, not-much-to-look-at Junkrat, revealing clean, reborn, could-take-on-the-world Junkrat! She was going to be so impressed! Since he couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot, he thought it best to take extra special care of his teeth. Heck, even his gold teeth seemed to glimmer back happily in the mirror. God almighty he was on fire, but he didn’t want that fire to burn out, so breakfast became a must.

“Dressin’ sharp t’day” Roadhog commented from the cafeteria table. Junkrat sat his tray down and took a seat. He shrugged, trying to play it cool.

“I got my moments,” he said, attempting to sound aloof. Hog just cleared his throat and sipped his morning tea.

“Take it you got Som’s bike fixed up,” he said. Junkrat nodded, giving his own mug a little stir before setting the spoon on a napkin. Even the tea smelled better that morning. He tilted back, enjoying that first beautiful slurp.

“Really Rat, th’side car is no place t’pash a classy lady like Sym,”. He didn’t cough or sputter in his tea, because he’d already been prepared for Hog saying something along those lines.

“I know, which is why we did it with her sittin’ on Som’s ride instead,” he shot right back, raising both eyebrows in challenge as he went back to slurping his tea (rather loudly). His friend hadn’t been ready for him to respond like that and just stared at him through his mask for a long quiet pause before tilting his head in an approving nod.

“Well then,” he said before returning to his mug, leaving Junkrat to his breakfast.

The morning’s enthusiasm slowly transitioned to anxiety the moment he approached the workroom door. Would Sym be waiting inside? If so, what was he supposed to do or say from there? The night before had flowed so naturally, he almost began to wonder if Talon had pumped some sort of pheromone through the hangar air ducts. He brushed the ridiculous notion aside as he swiped his keycard through the lock.

Sym wasn’t sitting at her desk, and her computer remained dormant. She hadn’t come in yet, and that observation triggered a sigh of relief. He settled down at his own corner of the workstation and looked a few things over. Despite his being in the infirmary for several days, there weren’t any work requests waiting for him, and his list of project ideas had all been scratched off. His personal supply of explosives could possibly be replenished, but that was dirty work and he’d made the mistake of dressing sharp.

He plopped down on the duct-tape covered stool and leaned against the edge of the worktable. The collar to his shirt felt tight around his neck, even without the tie, and he undid the top two buttons before smoothing back his hair. _So much fer that..._ He was beginning to feel silly for pulling a stunt like dressing up, and wondered if it was some karmic punishment that she wouldn’t come in at all today.

“Oh! You’re in early,” Symmetra greeted, having slipped into the room almost silently. He perked up in his seat, feeling the giddy rush returning to him. Sym always came in dressing clean and neat, but she had a bit of a glow about her, too (or maybe he was just projecting that upon her).

“Good morning!” he chirped. She tucked the packet of papers she was carrying under her arm and riffled through her personal filing cabinet for some more.

“You look nice today,” she quietly complimented, her attention focused on the papers she flicked through.

“Thanks!”.

“Any projects scheduled for today?”. Good old fashioned work banter. _What didja’ expect? Her t’just rip yer shirt open an’ jam ‘er tongue back down yer throat?_

“Nah. Got nothin’ goin’ on. May tinker a bit I guess. What ‘bout you?” he asked, dragging things out while he debated on whether or not to just bluntly state that last night had been amazing and he’d very much like to try it again at the nearest convenience. She finally fished out whatever it was she was looking for, added it to the stack under her arms, and tucked it all into an envelope.

“No. I actually am just about to leave for the day. I have a meeting with the research staff and then a couple other appointments that will keep me busy,” she started as she approached the door to leave, “I... I do wish to talk to you, though,”. Junkrat’s heart started to beat a little faster.

“Yeah?”.

“Yes. Later... tonight, if possible,” she asked. Was that a touch of a waiver in her voice? Nervousness? Good nervousness, or bad nervousness?

“Sure! Everythin’ alright?” he asked, fishing for any possible details.

“Yes. Everything is fine. I just have a favor to ask of you. It will require some explaining beforehand, is all,” she said, and then eyed the clock over her shoulder, “but I really must get going. Will you come to my room at seven?”.

“Sure!” he agreed again, and she left with a little wave, leaving Junkrat once again alone and his mind racing with all sorts of possibilities. Her room?! Seven?! He glanced at the clock and he swore the second hand suddenly started to tick slower just to fuck with him. He ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a loud sigh. There were too many hours to go until then! He undid the rest of his buttons on his shirt and hung it up on the back of Sym’s chair to keep it neat and clean. _Might as well work on backstock._

  
**.           .           .           .           .**

  
A knock rapped across Symmetra’s door at five to seven. _He’s early..._ It didn’t bother her though. The preliminary health scans hadn’t taken as long as she thought they would have, and she’d been alone in her room since five o’clock. She pulled the contract she’d typed up for him out of the top drawer of her desk, and folded it in half so he wouldn’t be able to see it before she had the opportunity to ask him outright.

“Thank you for being on time,” she said after ushering him inside.

“Oh! Er, no worries,” he said, apprehensively tugging at the collar of his shirt. She was surprised to find he hadn’t discarded it prior to coming over.

“Have a seat,” she said, pointing at the chair at her desk. He grabbed it, spun it around, and sat down so he could directly face her while she opted to sit along the edge of her bed.

“So...” she started, not exactly sure where to begin. It had all played out so easily in her head.

“So!” Junkrat piped right back before relaxing and leaning against her desk and grinning at her.

“I have a favor to ask of you,”.

“Whatcha’ need, Sym? I’m yer man!”. She could feel a blush coming on and she stifled it.

“I... will be going into the infirmary soon for a personal medical procedure,”. There. She was finally off to a good start.

“While it is not for anything life-threatening or dire, it will lead to a temporarily weakened immune system and a long recovery period,” she continued. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what it was that she was doing. If she told him, he might try to argue with her about it. While she was sure it would come from a place of concern, she was her own person and she refused to have anyone try and sway her from her own decisions.

“Oh! How long?” he asked, thankfully abstaining from asking personal details.

“Two to four weeks, depending on how well my body responds to the process. As a precaution, the medical staff here will place me in quarantine,” she said, reassuring him that she’d be safe even as a tiny voice of doubt whispered in the back of her mind.

“As I will be gone for such a length of time, I was wondering if you would be kind enough to...” she said, feeling herself stall out. This was a proposal she never thought she’d make, and frankly, she wasn’t sure how to go about it.

“To what?”. There was nothing remotely innocent about the man that was Junkrat, but right then his eyes gazed back at her waiting for her orders like a puppy trying his very best to be obedient. She looked around her room in a panic, feeling almost foolish.

“Water my flowers!” she blurted after scrambling some more. _Oh for the love of... that’s just a Freudian euphemism if I've ever heard one!_

“Oh! Is that it? Sure! Sure, I’d be happy t’water yer flowers!” he cheerfully agreed, not even noticing the double-entendre. His eyes flicked around her minimalist bedroom, trying to find them.

“Er... maybe I need my eyes checked though. I don’t really see any,”. Sym buried her face in her palms, took a deep breath, and centered herself. She was about to give him a contract, so she channeled her business-side and clasped her hands behind her back.

“There... There are none. Apologies. I’m a bit nervous and scrambled. Let me restart,” she said. Curious, Junkrat raised an eyebrow while folding his arms in front of him, waiting to hear her out.

“As with any medical procedure or surgery, it does come with its share of risks. In this particular case, one of them, though incredibly unlikely, is death. This led me to ruminate on my past experiences, as well as what I’ve yet to experience,” she explained. Junkrat’s lips parted as though he wanted to interrupt her, but he kept quiet and waited for her to continue.

“Some of these things are of a carnal nature,”. He had the confused scrunched face of a man who didn’t know what “carnal nature” meant.

“Sexual,” she clarified. She could almost see the gears turning in Junkrat’s brain as his eyebrows raised higher and higher and his eyeballs bulged.

“Oh my god! Are you a vir-,”.

“NO!” she clipped, cutting him off. She hated that outdated concept and all the damage it had done throughout history.

“There are just some sexual acts I’ve yet to experience. Namely, I’ve never had penetrative sex with a man before. I figured, should the worst happen, then at least I will have enjoyed one of life’s pleasures beforehand,” she explained. Junkrat remained speechless and his face was oddly void of emotion, leading her to regret even attempting something so stupid. _I believe I have successfully short-circuited his brain._ She closed her eyes and collected the last of her thoughts and feelings.

“You’re someone I’ve grown rather fond of, as well as someone I trust, and I figured, given what transpired between us last night, perhaps you would be interested. I know I’ve sprung this upon you rather suddenly, but...,” she said, slowly opening her eyes to discover that he’d tugged his shirt off and was fumbling with the top button of his pants.

“What are you doing?!” she stammered.

“Accommodatin’!” he eagerly announced and she immediately brought her hands up waving him to stop.

“I didn’t mean tonight, Junkrat!” she yelped. He left the button alone and held his hands up.

“I’m confused,” he admitted, and she rubbed her temples. _At least I have confirmation that he is willing..._

“I would like for us to have time to prepare, and I also have some ground rules I want you to go over first before you agree,” she said, motioning towards the desk, “There’s a contract behind you with my requirements. If you believe you can abide by them, then we may proceed tomorrow night,”. After pulling his shirt back on, he reached over and plucked the paper up. He flicked it open and gave it a quick glance.

“You have time to look this over and decide if you are willing and able,” she added. His lips moved a bit as he read it, and his face bounced from expression to expression, ultimately ending in a confident grin.

“Definitely willin’,” he said, and glanced down between his legs, “Definitely able!”.

“I’m being serious, Junkrat,”. Her voice was sobering to the man, and he sat a little straighter in the chair.

“I mean it, Sym. I’ll give this a thorough lookee, an’ let ya’ know,” he agreed. Appeased, the tension lifted from her face and shoulders, and she held out her hand.

“Then we are in agreement?”. Surprised by her professionalism, he stared at her hand for a moment before remembering what it was he had to do.

“Oh! Yeah! Yeah, I’m game if you are!” he said, and shook her hand emphatically.

“Good. I will see you tomorrow then?”. Junkrat confirmed, folded the contract, and slipped it into his pocket. He gave her a little wave, and left with the biggest smile she thought she’d ever seen on a man.

  
**.           .           .           .          .**

  
**Requirements:**   
**\- Must be thoroughly showered 1 hour prior to arrival. Fingernails must be trimmed. Teeth must be brushed and flossed. A visual inspection will be performed prior to physical engagement.**   
**\- Proof of STI vaccinations via medical records (request a copy through Ares). If not available must agree to wear a prophylactic. If needed, I will provide my own records and proof of sterilization.**   
**\- Minimum of forty minutes of foreplay prior to intercourse. Must include the use of hand and fingers (no insertion of prosthetics) and cunnilingus.**   
**\- A water-based lubricant will be provided and must be used when necessary or requested.**   
**\- Must adhere to all requests to stop if so stated (applies to both parties)**   
**\- Once both parties have achieved orgasm, must discretely vacate premises within thirty minutes of clean-up.**   
**\- Must provide personal request addendums prior to the final signing of this contract by noon tomorrow.**

_Ain’t this somethin’?_ Junkrat read the list a couple times, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He could accommodate them all, though a few of them did give him a chuckle. She was a very particular woman with very particular wants and needs, and while that once came off as snootiness, now it was something he found charming. It was also nice having a bit of a guideline to follow, because he’d never fucked a woman as classy as her before, and without some insight into what she expected, he would have been grasping at straws trying to figure it out.

The only thing that tripped him up was the part about medical records. He recalled getting about a dozen or so different shots the day he and Hog came into the facility (leaving all his limbs sore for several days), though the doctors hadn’t explained what it was they were poking him with. He scratched his head a bit, wishing he could ask someone for advice on how to obtain his records beyond her hint at asking Ares. He glanced around his room, as though expecting to find a helpful ghost.

“Hey, Ares?” he asked the vacant space.

“How may I be of service, Agent Fawkes?”. He grimaced at the unnerving sensation of, essentially, talking to no one.

“Junkrat,” he corrected, “I need t’look at my medical records. You able to help me out with that?”.

“Retrieving medical records for Agent Jamison Junkrat Fawkes,” the disembodied voice announced, and Junkrat waited, drumming his fingers on his knee while he glanced at the contract in his other hand.

“Your medical records,” Ares said, and an illuminated screen hovered in front of him. Junkrat flicked through it, scrolling further and further down. It was longer than he’d expected, which was surprising, given that he hadn’t seen a real doctor until just a few years ago, and even then he’d only continued visiting any of them sparingly.

“Er... where do I find my list of immunizations?” he asked, and Ares took control scrolling a little backward before coming to a stop where a list began. His first entry was rather recent, with it recording the time he and Hog visited a free clinic for tetanus shots (a staple for Junkers, as they were always working with rusty metal), and then was immediately followed by the entry from when they joined Talon. There were quite a few different technical-sounding names bulleted in a row with their common names and uses following in parenthesis. Sure enough, one particular shot contained STI preventatives, and he breathed a sigh of relief that Talon had taken the initiative that would ultimately let him get laid.

“Is there a way t’send this t’Sym?” he tried.

“Who?”. Junkrat rolled his eyes.

“Satya Vaswani?”.

“I can send it to her email, with your permission, though I must remind you that this is very personal information that you would be sending to a non-medical-professional. Is that alright?” Ares offered, and Junkrat approved. With that all taken care of, he was left with one other task. She had a list of demands and requirements, and he had an opportunity to make his own. He found a notebook next to his bed and thumbed through it until he found a blank page. He groped at his windowsill until he found a pencil, and began to scribble.

_My Requirements:_ He paused and stared at it while tapping the pencil against his chin. What could he write that wasn’t already covered on her list? He couldn’t imagine that someone like her would want to get really kinky the first time around, and he had no intentions of doing that either... unless she asked him to. After a while, he could only seem to come up with one idea. He wrote it down, tore the page out, and sat it on his nightstand. With that taken care of, he turned the lights off, settled into bed, and stared at the ceiling. He tried not to dwell too much upon what was going to happen the next night, but honestly, it was damn near impossible.

Junkrat slipped into the lab early the next morning to tuck both contracts into his drawer of notebooks before heading to breakfast. He didn’t want to risk Roadhog seeing them, because then there’d be all that explaining, and he was pretty sure Sym would be furious if she found out that he blabbed (even if Roadhog wouldn't tell a soul). It just struck him as something she’d prefer to keep quiet for many reasons (one of them being Moira). She’d never made him privy to what transpired between her and the doctor. For all he knew, perhaps he was now the “side piece”. He tried batting that thought aside. No, she was too proper of a person to pull something like that, and at the least, she would have alerted him to being in that sort of position. Whatever had taken place between the two women was either over or maybe it never took off to begin with.

Breakfast with Roadhog had been silent. While his friend did comment on him behaving strangely, he simply assured him that he was just tired (not entirely a lie, because he hadn’t slept well at all). Hog seemed to buy the excuse and didn’t needle him further. That cover was almost blown when Sym walked past their table and their eyes briefly met. She gave him a little nod, which he returned, but it left his face flushed and suddenly he could no longer look up from the table.

He and Symmetra reached the lab at the same time, both awkwardly bumping hands as they tried to simultaneously unlock the door, which led to them awkwardly chuckling and awkwardly side-stepping each other as they finally went inside. She started up her computer as though it were just another day at the office.

“I received your email last night. It meets my requirements. Thank you for your promptness,” she said and pulled a paper out from her desk.

“As is fair, here are my records,” she added and slid the papers facedown across the length of the counter. Junkrat nabbed it and took a look. She had taken the time to highlight the areas showing her own immunizations, as well as evidence that she’d gone through with her sterilization a number of years ago. Junkrat blew a sigh of relief. There’d be no baby Junkers roaming around nine months in the future.

“Do you have any terms of your own?” she quietly asked. Junkrat opened the drawer again, pulling out the two sheets of paper. He followed her lead, sliding his torn-out notebook page face down, which she took and quickly read.

“You prefer I call you Jamison during coitus?” she asked, verifying. Junkrat nodded and finally looked over at her, taking in her ever-polished look of business attire.

“Yeah. I think it sounds nicer fer... fer somethin’ like that, y’know? Nicer than Junkrat... I mean, if you feel like sayin’ my name at some point. Some people like sayin’ names durin’...” he explained while rubbing the back of his neck and trying very hard to not feel embarrassed. She looked back at him, gently smiling.

“I agree... You may call me Satya, then, should the opportunity arise. Fair is fair,”. They each signed both contracts, which were then stapled together and once more tucked into her desk.

“My room, nine o’clock,” she ordered. Junkrat gave her a thumbs-up before her phone rang, rendering her busy for the rest of the day. He occupied himself with deep-cleaning his peg leg and arm, which she managed to notice with an approving smile.

He passed Roadhog on his way to the showers and broke out into a nervous sweat because his bodyguard tilted his head in puzzlement. If he wasn’t suspicious before, then he certainly was now, because Junkrat never showered two days in a row without good reason. He mumbled something about feeling itchy and sweaty and threw himself into a stall before he could even think of what was going in his friend’s head.

He scrubbed away, making sure to get every nook and cranny of his person, and took extra special care of dressing back up in freshly-washed clothes. Every time he thought he was ready in some way or another, he’d try and think of Sym and meeting her approval. She had a critical eye, the same of which couldn’t be said about himself, but after multiple scans of mental checklists and glances in a mirror, he deemed himself ready and knocked on her door at exactly nine o’clock. She opened it a crack, assured the coast was clear, and let him in.

Her room had changed slightly. She’d placed several candles around, but further inspection showed him that they were not made of wax and wick, but hardlight. The faux flames were small glowing bulbs that flickered as though alive, bathing the room in a relaxing yet sultry glow. Sym herself was wrapped up in a black embroidered robe, her hair slightly damp and gleaming, and in her hand, she clutched a wine glass. She eyed it and nodded towards her desk, where an open bottle and second glass waited.

“I have some wine available if you’d like... It will help take the edge off. Relax a little,”.

“Yeah! Yeah, sure,” he said, and she poured a generous amount for him. In the low light, the red almost looked violet, and the edge of the faceted glass twinkled for a moment. He wanted to gulp it back in one go, but followed Sym’s lead and sipped it. It smelled liked flowers, tasted sweet, and made him feel refined. He regretted coming in with just shorts, a t-shirt, and his lone sandal, but at least they were clean.

“When, ah... when d’you want t’do the... you know... physical inspectin’?” he wondered, and then frowned for bringing that subject up so quickly. She sat on the edge of her bed and patted the spot next to her. He took a seat and waited, looking down at her while he quickly sipped away.

“Is this making you uncomfortable?” she murmured. He shook his head no. Nervous, yes, but not uncomfortable. She finished her glass and sat it on her nightstand next to one of the candles. The light reflected off of it in fragments, creating a couple little rainbows on the wall behind it.

“Can I see your prosthetic?” she asked. He switched the glass to his other hand and held the metal limb out for her to see. She delicately took it, turning it over to admire it.

“You did a very thorough job cleaning it today,” she noted, and her fingers trailed upward until she cupped either side of his face.

“Will you smile for me?”. He did, letting out a little chuckle at the request, and she made a sound of approval at his clean teeth. He knocked back the last of his wine and set his glass next to hers. Her hands roamed, reaching the hem of his shirt.

“May I?” she asked, and he said she could. She pulled his shirt over his head, leaving him bare from his hips upward. Being shirtless around her wasn’t by any means unusual for him, but right then he’d never felt so exposed; dare he even think it, vulnerable. _This is gonna' be different... isn’t it?_ Every partner he’d ever had always brought something different to the table, but nothing had been quite like this. He’d dreamed about her undressing him countless times, but it was always a desperate and passionate tearing-off of clothes with sweat and heavy breathing; not gentle caresses and inquisitive glances. That wasn’t to say he didn’t like what was happening.

Sym ran her palm over him in a way that suggested that she’d been wanting to do it for a while. Her touch ran down his other arm and took hold of his hand. His trimmed and freshly painted nails met her approval. She ran a path down his chest and abdomen, causing his heart to beat faster, butterflies to flutter in his stomach, and his shorts to grow tight.

“Is this alright?” she asked, giving the hem of his shorts a tug. She had leaned forward slightly, allowing her robe to loosen just enough for him to glance down and take note that she likely wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His shorts grew even tighter.

“I... ah... yeah. Yeah, it’s alright,” he stammered, both elated and on guard. She gestured for him to lay on her bed, and he shimmied over, leaning back against her headboard.

“Can we take your peg leg off? It’s very clean, but I don’t want it damaging my bedding,” she explained, which he agreed to. He undid the clasps and pulled it off, and she leaned it up against the side of her nightstand. Without another word, she flicked the button of his shorts open and slid the zipper down. _It’s now or never, I guess.._. He helped her slide them down until they were fully removed and tossed them on the floor. He laid back, exposed, erect, and at her mercy, and while it was indeed a precarious position to be in, he found it to be very much a turn-on (especially after seeing her reaction). Her eyes zeroed in on one particular target, and her eyebrows popped up in excitement while a bemused little smile crossed her lips.

“Everything meetin' yer expectations?” he asked, finally feeling relaxed enough to smile of his own accord and even joke with her a little bit.

“And then some,” she replied in a teasing little purr and holy fuck did he love that! Not just for the satisfaction his own ego, but also because that was exactly how he dreamed of her talking to him. He laced his fingers behind his head and gazed at her with an eager smirk. She stooped forward to grab her empty glass and swayed back over to the bottle. She poured herself another serving and glanced over her shoulder at him.

“Would you like some more?”.

“Nah. Don’t wanna’ get muddled. Takes the fun outta’ it,”. Sym took one last sip before setting it back down, and he was thankful because if she got herself drunk, he’d have to put a stop to the evening’s festivities. Her silky robe rustled as she unknotted the belt. Ever so slowly, she slipped the fabric off her shoulders and let her covering fall to the floor. _I don’t know what I did t’deserve this but I’ll gladly do it every day from here on out!_

ASS! Good god, for a moment that was all that existed in his universe! He wanted to revolve around it like a planet to a radiating and perfectly plump sun. He wondered if he could ever convince her to stay in his room at some point just so he could use it for his pillow. Sym turned around and suddenly her ass had two supple contenders.

“I will take it from the size of your eyes that I pass your visual inspection?” she asked.

“Very yes!” he said, and it almost came out as a squawk. Sym stifled a laugh and then switched gears by slowly approaching the foot of the bed and climbing over it. She crawled over on all fours and settled at his right side.

“Where do we go from here?” she asked, waiting for him to respond. Junkrat rolled so he could face her. Fuck, she was gorgeous! Part of him wondered if he was just having another detailed dream, but he caught the scent of her perfume and it grounded him to reality. Every bit of it was real and happening, and he was going to savor every bit of the moment and every bit of her.

“Well, I usually like startin’ like this,” he said, cupped the side of her face, and brought his lips to hers. If the kiss from two nights ago was brilliant, then this one was on another plane of existence! It was hot and searing, wanting and hungry, exhilarating and foretelling. He swore everything tasted better on her tongue, and that included the wine. His hand trailed down her neck: his thumb lightly brushing against her throat, and her pulse quickened. He moved lower still, his hand exploring her soft skin and coming to rest on her breast. She breathed a small sigh of pleasure against his mouth before returning to his kiss.

He gave her a gentle squeeze because he just couldn’t resist and rolled his thumb over her nipple with a quick little stroke. She inhaled sharply before relaxing to the touch, and he could feel it perk up underneath the pad of his thumb. Every reaction she experienced and sound she made was intoxicating, and he almost couldn’t stop himself. He grabbed her shoulder, carefully rolling her onto her back. He poised himself on top of her, relishing the sight of her beneath him. Her dark hair fanned across the pillow. Her lips glistening and parted, waiting for another kiss. Her gold eyes gazing back at him while her breath quickened, but there was a hint of worry in them.

“Wait... I don’t... I’m sorry. This is...” she whispered. He immediately pulled back, allowing her some breathing room.

“You ain’t likin’ this?” he asked, concern starting to grow. He wanted her to enjoy it, but the way her eyebrows knit together triggered a wave of panic.

“Yes, but... It’s a little overwhelming for a start,” she quietly admitted. Junkrat rolled off of her onto his back, but he never took his eyes off of her.

“It’s alright. Happens sometimes,” he said. It had never happened to him or his past partners per se (save for his first sexual encounter), but he was aware that everyone experienced things differently. Sym was sensitive to sounds. Perhaps that sensitivity applied to certain physical sensations, too.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her eyes slowly closing.

“Satya,” he murmured, hoping she’d respond to his earnest use of her name, “It’s alright. Nothin’ t’be embarrassed about,”. He thought some more on what could be done to salvage the situation. What was it that made her uncomfortable? What was she lacking? She was the one who approached him. She was the one who set the parameters. She was the one who wrote the contract and made the requests and needed to be in charge of the situation.

“I got an idea,” he said and adjusted himself to sit a little more upright against the headboard.

“Why don’t you try stuff out? See what y’like? Tell me what you want me t’do. I’m just here for th’ride,” he said. She paused in thought looking him over.

“When you’re ready,” he added. She rolled back on her side, resting her chin on the back of her hand, and to him, that was a good sign, because it meant she was easing back to her normal self.

“You being on top just had me feeling a little entrapped is all. You’re much taller than I am. It’s one of the things I find visually appealing about you, but it just felt a bit... much. Perhaps it’s because it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone,” she admitted.

“Figgered. Been a while fer me, too. Got a little excited. Hit the gas too fast. Sorry ‘bout that,”. She wiggled a little closer until he could feel her press up against his side. She hesitantly reached out with her gauntlet and went back to trailing her fingers in exploratory paths. She splayed them out across his sternum, letting the pads sink in to test the muscles of his chest. She liked the resistance she felt underneath, letting out a faint little “oh!” in surprise, and that cheeky little smile returned.

She approached his abdomen, appreciating the defined grooves between is muscles. When she came to his navel, she circled it with her index finger, and an involuntary giggle escaped him. A sly smirk took over her face, and she did it again to test out her hypothesis, resulting in him giggling some more.

“You’re ticklish, I see,” she noted, and tried it again for good measure.

“An’ you’re turnin’ out t’be a tease!” he joked. The exploration of his body continued, and he was thrilled to find that she was working lower and lower, down the grooves from his hip bones, stopping just as she reached coarse blonde hair.

“A tease, I tell ya’!” he sarcastically repeated. Sym’s confidence slowly started to build back up. She moved over, straddling his hips, and nestled down over his lap. He could feel her warmth pressing up against him, and a dull throb pumped through the length of him. He groaned, ending with a sigh of enjoyment.

“Let’s try this again,” she said, leaning forward until her belly brushed his, and her breasts pushed up against him. He liked that very much, and he liked seeing her eyelids closing as her lips came to meet him. Another kiss set off those same fireworks in his head all over again. He wrapped his arms around her, but not too tightly. The prosthetic once again rested on her lower back while he wound his fingers through her ink black hair. Following his lead, she wrapped her arms around his neck, keeping him close. She pulled away from his lips, lettering hers flutter delicately along his jaw and throat while smoothing back his hair, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head there for a moment.

“Fffuuuck,” he whispered with pleasure because that was something he had always loved to feel and she did it completely unprompted as though she knew it all along! What was she going to do next? Grind against his throbbing cock? Whisper his name in his ear? He let his hands rest on her hips, just so he could let his fingers knead her backside. And the dimples! Those adorable little dimples that dotted just above! He’d heard them referred to as “marks of Venus”, and he loved the fact that they even existed. He gave them a little prod of appreciation, and she giggled into the crook of his neck.

“Oo! Guess who’s ticklish, too!” he said with an impish grin and tapped them again, causing her to pop up on her knees, shoving her breasts right into his face, and really, that was somewhere he wanted to be all along. He buried his face in deeper and was fairly convinced that maybe he could just live there forever. His head spun from delight and indulgence and he kissed each one appreciatively, making her laugh a little more.

“You are a fan, I take it?”. He pulled his face away, looking at her incredulously.

“Are you not?!”.

“I have had sex with women before, so I think it is fair to assume that I am,” she reminded him, setting off a whole new slew of visuals in his imagination. _Holy fuck, what if she ever became interested in a threesome?!_

With her still up on her knees, he returned to placing kisses and exhaling hot breaths across her breasts, her collarbone, and neck. Every sigh that left her grew a little louder, and her chest heaved in excitement. With her feeling more comfortable and eased into the pace they’d created, he let his hand return to her body. He smoothed over every curve, coming lower and lower until he brushed below her navel, and came to a stop. He pulled his head back, looking into her eyes.

“You ready?” he whispered, and she gave him a slow nod. He combed his hand through neatly trimmed black hair, finding her to be slick and responsive. He started by running his thumb along the length of her, causing her to inhale a sharp breath and widen her knees a touch. Slowly he stroked back and forth, with each pass separating her a little more. He sucked along her neck, desperately wanting to leave a lasting impression.

“No marks, please,” she whispered. _Fair ‘nough._ He continued, but never lingered anywhere too long. With her fully parted, he pulled his thumb away, and carefully inserted his index finger. A quiet hiss of pleasure told him she liked it, and he began to crook his finger, feeling her expand to his touch. Her body was so responsive to the slightest stimulus, which he hoped was a sign that her climax would be spectacular!

“Let me know if you want another one,” he murmured. Though her eyes were closed, concentrating on the pleasure she was feeling, she managed to nod her agreement. After a few minutes of him working his hand while caressing her body, he heard her quiet request for a second finger, and he obliged. One was good, but two was better (at least, that’s what he gathered, given the sounds she made).

“Feels good,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. He pushed his palm upward and used his thumb to stroke circles around her clit. She hummed with delight, and every part of him started to ache from her reaction.

“Think... think I’m getting close though,” she whispered, and he pulled his hand away. He wouldn’t let her climax like that. No, he wanted to be inside her when it happened. He wanted to feel her tighten around him before crying out in ecstasy while holding him close.

She leaned forward, bracing her hands on the edge of the wooden headboard, and kissed the top of his head. Her eyes locked with his for a while, and that sultry stare made his heart race and his body ache. Something about it compelled him to lie back underneath her, and someday he hoped to be at her mercy, just to see what she’d do to him. But this wasn’t about him, was it? He had a job to do, and according to the contract, there was another service she requested. He brought his head up, gripped her hip with one hand for support, used his other to separate her folds, and kissed in between.

“Yes!” she hissed; another sign that she approved, and he flicked his tongue outward. If there was one thing he knew how to do (and how to do well), it was orally pleasuring a woman. He never understood men who were squeamish about it. What could be done with the cock was could often be done better with the tongue, and it drove women mad, and when women were properly motivated, their reciprocation always astounded him. Was he also crazy for actually liking the aromas and flavors? _Fuck, who cares if I’m a perv?!_ He’d never heard anyone complain about his skill, and now he could add Sym to that list.

She moaned. Fuck, she moaned! Not only that, but she gripped the back of his head and wound her fingers through his hair, pushing him closer, (which only motivated him more). Everything about this woman wound him up! She was gorgeous and sensuous. Her body was perfect, she tasted so good, and smelled perfect, and he hoped this wouldn’t be the only time he could hold her.

“Jamison...” she whispered, driving him mad. He pushed his tongue a little more forcefully, flicking upward. She let out a little gasp and shiver, and from the sound of quickening breaths and the grip she had on his head, he knew she was growing close again. He pulled his head back, reluctantly falling back on the pillow. His mouth and chin were soaked, and he wiped them dry with the back of his hand.

“Lady, you need t’stop gettin’ so worked up!” he said, chuckling and gasping, “We ain’t even gotten to th’best part!”. Breathless, Sym plopped back down, slumping forward onto his chest. Once again, her wetness and heat met his cock, and he grunted from the urgent throbbing beneath.

“The best part...” she murmured. The time had come. Up until that point, she’d enjoyed familiar experiences and sensations (though he wouldn’t deny that he wanted to know how he stacked up against past partners).

“When you’re ready. Need t’catch my breath too,” he said, his lungs still heaving.

“I didn’t mean to nearly suffocate you,” she joked, “You’re just very good at what you do,”. _You bet yer sweet tits I am!_

Sym pushed herself up enough to reach over to her nightstand, and she plucked a bottle of lubricant from behind a digital clock. She gave it a little shake.

“Would it be easier if I lay down?” she asked. Junkrat laced his fingers behind his head once again and smiled.

“Easier? I s’pose so. But I think you’ll like bein’ on top better. Plus, you’re smart. I think you’ll be able t’figger it out,” he suggested. Sym smirked, poured a small amount in her hand, and snapped the bottle shut. After placing it back on the nightstand, she reached down and carefully wrapped her fingers around his cock. He tilted his head back and groaned.

Fuck, even her hand felt amazing. It was so much softer than his, and she somehow gripped it with just the right amount of pressure, slowly spreading the lubricant from tip to base. He didn’t think they really needed it, as she was plenty wet, but he wasn’t going to stop her from running her hand up and down his shaft in long pleasing strokes. How was she so good at it? In his pleasure-scrambled brain, he vaguely recalled her saying she’d never been penetrated by a man, but that didn’t mean she’d never used her hand or her mouth on one. _Fuck, I bet she gives an amazin’ gobby..._

Sym let his cock go and placed her hands on either side of him while she positioned herself. He watched her eyes close in concentration, and she slid down on top of him. While her hand felt amazing, there was no comparison to being inside her, and now he had his own first to add to his list. With them both aware of their medical histories and her having proof of birth control, it was his first time experiencing sex without a condom, and it was worlds different from anything he’d ever felt before, to say the least. Though she exhaled in a way that sounded like she equally enjoyed it, her eyebrows remained knit together.

“You... you feel so good,” he whispered while she held still atop him. She didn’t say anything at first.

“Satya? Does it feel good?” he prodded and squinted his eyes closed at the thought that it might not for her. “It’s alright if it don’t. We can stop. I can go back t-,”.

“You’re just... bigger than my vibrator is all. I just needed time,” she assured (which he found gratifying). She tried pumping upward but didn’t seem to like that much.

“Here,” he said, gently coaxing her shoulders down towards his chest, “Try leanin’ forward. Better angle,”. She followed his suggestion, falling forward until she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck again. She tried a couple pumps to test the waters.

“Oh!” she said, pleasantly surprised, “Yes! I like this angle very much,”.

“Good! ‘Cause holy fuck I do too!” he said, meaning every single word of it. He let her set the pace; a slow and grinding rhythm. She breathed little purrs and sighs against his neck while he slid his hands to either side of her hips, guiding her up and down. He thrust his hips upward just as she’d reach his base, filling her as completely as he could.

“Jamison,” she whispered against his neck while she stroked the side of his face and brushed his bottom lip with her thumb. His pulse rocketed through him at the sound of her calling his name until he could almost feel the thumping in his ears.

“Satya,” he whispered back. He held her against him, wrapping her tightly, never wanting to let her go or for the moment to end.

Somewhere through the steady pumping, thrusting, and grinding, her pace began to quicken. Her hips rolled forward against him, finding the perfect angle to hit that sweet spot. Sweat slicked his torso from the heat between them, and her body slid against his.

“I think... I think I’m getting close,” she said.

“Then don’t stop,” he assured, feeling his own tension mounting. He was absolutely aching from trying to hold himself back. He wanted her to come first. He NEEDED her to come first. He needed her to know that he’d always be there to pleasure her. He couldn’t be handsome, or someone for her to be proud of or to love, but he could bring her to ecstasy, and she’d always be welcome to that.

“Jamison... Oh!” she gasped, with the Oh turning into a sharp cry of release. She’d stopped for a moment, her breathing timed to each cresting spasm, and he could feel it all around him; her muscles clenching and releasing, her perfect softness, the wave of heat.

“Satya, I’m gonna’...” he groaned, not able to hold back from thrusting, and she obliged him by returning to an agonizingly slow pace. A few rubs was all it took before he reached the tipping point. His climax felt like a feverish high as he emptied himself in her. His head spun with each throbbing pulse, and he could feel the pearly liquid beginning to slide back down his shaft, with some of it pooling at the base. With one final spurt, he’d finished. All that time and build-up, wondering what it would be like to feel her for the first time had come to a close, and it had surpassed every possible expectation.

He still held her against his chest, though his arms felt weak. His legs felt weak. Every fiber of his being felt weak. Someone had come and sucked every ounce of strength from his body and every thought from his brain. That someone was still on top of him breathing against his neck, and he didn’t give a shit that he felt limp and lifeless. He could now die a happy man.

“Didja’ like it?” he asked, aware that his words were slurred and that he probably sounded stupid, but he didn’t give a single shit.

“Yes,” she murmured, “I almost regret not experiencing this sooner,”. _Almost... Almost?_

“But I have a feeling this was an exceptional moment, and I don’t know if a different partner could ever compare,”.

“So... y'liked it?” he slurred again. Sym started laughing out loud; a tired and exhilarated laugh that made him grin at the ceiling like an idiot.

“Yes,” she said while reaching up and patting the top of his head reassuringly. With a grunt of exhaustion, she pushed herself back up and slid off of him with a little “oof”. She opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out handtowel, which she held between her thighs.

“Y’thing offff everytin’,” he said, still waiting for his brain to recover. She chuckled some more and popped into her water closet on shaky legs. The door closed and he could hear water running.

Soon she’d be back. He’d have his chance to clean up, and then it’d all be over. He’d pop his clothes back on, make some awkward small talk, and trudge back to his room, all to fall asleep alone, and to continue that loneliness during the weeks she’d be in quarantine. He didn’t like it one bit.

Sex with Sym had been special, for more reasons than one. His brow furrowed, angry about all the emotions that were starting to surface in his brain. Those were new to the game. He didn’t want to just up and leave. He wanted to stay, at least for the night, and keep holding her and feel her touch just for the sake of feeling wanted. He wanted this night to mean more to her, too, but Sym was Sym, and she wasn’t the type of person to feel that way, was she?

“The water closet is open if you’d like to clean yourself up,” she announced while padding around to the other side of the bed, stopping at her desk to grab the wine glass that she hadn’t finished. With a reluctant grumble, he pushed himself upright and hopped on one leg, closing the door behind him. She’d left him a clean washcloth and a bar of soap next to the sink.

_It’d be wrong of me t’ask if I can stay, wouldn’t it?_ He knew the answer. He’d already signed the contract. After finishing up, he stepped out, only to find her still nude, sitting on the bed with her glass. Only a couple of the fake candles remained lit, making the room dark. She was going to go right to bed after he left, and the thought made his chest ache a little more. He bent down, grabbing his peg leg.

“You... you don’t have to leave so quickly. We can stay and talk a little,” she said, “Unless you want to go, of course,”. She’d pulled her blanket and sheets back, tucking herself in while propping up against the pillow.

“Oh! Uh... sure,” he said, standing back up. She pulled the blanket back some more and patted the open spot for him. He obliged, sitting next to her and trying not to get too comfortable (and continuously reminding himself not to ask her if he could sleep over).

“I’m sorry that it was a difficult start,” she apologized. He brushed it off.

“S’alright, Satya. First-time jitters. Well... first time fer this, anyway,” he clarified. He glanced over at her, and her face was hard to read.

“Thank you... for adhering to the contract. You were exceedingly thoughtful every step of the way. I appreciated that,” she said, her voice low. She brought her knees to her chest and took a sip before setting her glass down.

“Well... I like makin’ people I’m with feel good, ‘cause... not a lotta’ people champin’ at th’bit t’get at yours truly,” he said, pointing at himself and forcing a chuckle.

“Don’t sell yourself so short, Jamison. You have more to offer than you know,”. Jamison. She still called him Jamison. Did she realize it? Was it intentional? A slip-up?

“Well, judgin’ by th’sounds you were makin’, s’pose I set th’bar pretty high for the next bloke comin’ along,” he commented and scratched the back of his head. _Don’t ask her._

“I suppose you did,”. Junkrat yawned, not sure how much longer he could keep his eyes open. Though not exactly late, he’d worn himself out, and since he couldn’t stay, he’d very much like to get back to his room, just so he could fall asleep while he still had pleasant memories playing in his head. Maybe he’d dream about her later. Maybe the end of the night would play out differently in his subconscious.

“Guess, I better not get too comfy though. You gotta’ get up early,” he said, pulling the blanket back. Her small hand smoothed over top of his.

“Would you stay?”. Her voice was so quiet, he almost thought he’d imagined it. She gave his hand a little squeeze.

“I... I know we signed the contract, but... but I didn’t anticipate... I don’t want to be alone tonight... Not after this,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She caught herself, pulling her hand back.

“But... no is an acceptable answer, too,” she said, tucking her fingers away into a fist. Junkrat reached out, covering the distance between them, and took her hand back.

“I’ll stay,” he agreed. She slid further under the sheets to lay her head on her pillow, simply watching him. He pulled his metal prosthesis off, letting it fall to the floor, and nestled down under the blankets with her. It was a quiet moment. They held each other’s gaze, wordlessly waiting for the other to say something, but no words came to mind. And then she leaned forward and gave him the softest and sweetest kiss he’d ever experienced.

“Thank you, Jamison,”. She closed her eyes, and a few minutes later, he could see her breath slow to the rhythm of sleep. He reached across, pulled her a little closer, and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you, Satya,”.


	23. Ch 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Symmetra begins her experiment, feeling nervous but ready. Junkrat tells Roadhog about Sym going away and the pair start to feel uneasy about her departure. Sombra catches wind of it as well, and confirms their suspicions, even if she can't see the whole picture yet. Moira makes good on her word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: The tail-end of the chapter might be upsetting for anyone who has experienced blacking out or being drugged. I tried to keep as little detail out of the scene as possible.

Symmetra woke, feeling groggy but overall well-rested. A glance at the clock told her that she’d managed to beat her alarm by three minutes, and she whispered to Ares to silence it before it had the chance to go off. She met resistance though in the form of an arm snaked around her stomach, and the pieces of last night had fallen back together.

He was still there in bed with her, with eyes firmly shut and breaths slow and steady. She didn’t want to wake him, preferring to just slip out early over the ever-uncomfortable “get up, put your clothes on, and get out”. He deserved better than that. If she could really have it her way, perhaps it would be nice to just sleep in and postpone her plans for another day. Maybe they could have had a late breakfast before going their separate ways for the day. He shifted in his sleep, pulling her back towards him as though he could sense her intentions. _This is exactly why I should have let him leave last night._

Last night had been transformative for her; not so much from a physical standpoint (though ending her dry spell in such a spectacular fashion had been a highlight), but rather an unexpectedly emotional one. He’d been so genuine and thoughtful, careful and communicative, and she had the sense that even if she hadn’t made him sign a contract, the experience probably wouldn’t have changed all that much. It made her see him in an entirely different light; one that twinkled like a diamond in the rough. _That’s exactly what he is..._

She couldn’t bear letting last night end so quickly, and she’d struggled with whether or not to ask him to stay. She didn’t know whether he felt the same way as her. Up until last night, he’d struck her as someone who could keep sex and emotions separate, and even as she fell asleep, she remained convinced that he was still just staying out of a sense of contractual obligation. That was until she thought she heard him whisper her name and kiss her forehead. _Please tell me I didn’t just dream it._

She’d procrastinated in bed long enough. If she stayed any more, she risked running late and this was something far too important to negate punctuality. She slipped away from his grasp, and his hand groped around searching for her. He made do with clutching her pillow to his chest.

She hastily brushed her hair, which was a tousled mess from all of their physical activity, and braided it to keep it in order. She washed her face and brushed her teeth. Per the preparation instructions, she was advised to dress plainly: no jewelry, no make-up, no additional perfumes or lotions. She could bring a couple of books or other small items to occupy her time while she was there. They advised her to bring slip-proof slippers and socks, and comfortable clothing for her off-hours. Everything of that nature had been packed in a suitcase the night before, and all she needed to do was tote it along with her.

Symmetra stood with her back to the door, the suitcase clutched at her right side. She stared at the man still asleep in her bed. Should she wake him and have him walk her to the medical wing to see her off? She bit her lip and looked at the floor. No. She didn’t want him to see her feeling anxious. Instead, she found a little notepad in her desk and penned him a letter. She folded it up, tucked her keycard inside it, and left it next to the wine glasses and empty bottle that she’d already rinsed out. Worried that he’d leave without seeing it, she grabbed his clothes off from the floor, neatly folded them, and sat them next to her letter. Her eyes lingered on her jewelry box, and she reached inside, grabbing the delicate chain with his handmade charm. She fashioned a little box to keep it in and slid it into her bag of belongings.

Sym snatched the handle to her suitcase once more and left before she could regret her decisions.

  
**.           .           .           .           .**

  
Junkrat woke up two hours after Symmetra left, groping for the person who was supposed to be next to him. When his hand came up empty, he scrunched his face up in a perturbed fashion, groaned with displeasure, and forced his eyes to open. She wasn’t there in bed, or anywhere else in the room for that matter. It immediately cut to his core. She couldn’t be bothered with giving him a proper goodbye? He exhaled a heavy sigh. He thought last night had been special to her, too.

First, he found his arm and popped it back on, followed by his peg leg, but his clothes weren’t where he’d left them the night before. A quick scan later found them all neatly folded and resting on her desk. She’d also rinsed out her wine glasses and emptied the last of the bottle, making sure her room was as close to clean as possible before she went away for nearly a month.

Junkrat first grabbed his shorts, shook them out, and slid them on. Next came his shirt, though something fluttered to the floor, grabbing his attention. It was a piece of paper that had been folded up and had his name penned upon it in elegant handwriting. When he unfolded it, he scrambled to catch a keycard that had been tucked inside.

_Dear Junkrat,_

_I’m sorry to leave without waking you, but I thought, given the early hour, that you’d prefer to sleep in. I wish to thank you again for last night. I found the experience pleasurable and surpassing my expectations. I also want to thank you for staying. I was nervous about my medical procedure, but having you there helped ease my mind enough to allow me a decent night of sleep._

_As a thank you for everything, I’ve left my keycard behind. Inside my closet is the case with the gauntlet glove in the event that you wish to practice and hone your hardlight skills. Technically speaking, I cannot let you use it without my being there, so if you wish to practice, you must remain in my bedroom (hence the keycard). Please remember to keep my room as you have found it._

_My procedure will probably be already taking place by the time you read this, and my lengthy recovery will be in quarantine. Unfortunately, due to the dark-matter trials, the quarantine areas are now considered restricted sections. As such, my communication will be limited at best, so I apologize if you don’t hear from me before my return. I only mention this, because I care about you and do not wish to cause you to worry. I know I am in good hands here at Talon, else my superior would not have approved my going through with this personal surgery and observation. Rest assured I will contact you the moment I am released, and we can discuss things further if you wish._

_Until then, take care._   
_-Satya_

_PS, Would you please do one final favor for me? I have requested the laundry service to wash my sheets and blankets in the afternoon. If you could just remove them from my mattress and pillows and leave them outside my door, I would greatly appreciate it. Thank you._

Well, that certainly answered a few questions and even soothed a few wounds. Sym just wanted him to rest comfortably. She wasn’t sneaking out so as not to face him. She was just pressed for time. That he could handle. And she said she cared for him and was even trusting him enough to leave her keycard behind. That was encouraging.

The emotions from last night still floated in his brain. He’d had the best sex that he could recall (possibly even ever), and he couldn’t help but think that part of it was due to the mental build-up from all those months they’d spent in each other’s company. Every encounter he’d had before was a culmination of nothing more than physical attraction and sexual need, but Sym? That was something entirely new. Was that what people referred to as “making love”? It sounded so corny, but he couldn’t think of any other terminology that seemed to properly grasp the situation.

After following her instructions for the sheets, he pocketed her keycard and closed the door behind him. It was late when he finally got down to the cafeteria, leaving the tables mostly empty, save the one where Hog was sitting. Junkrat’s eyes narrowed the second he spotted him. His friend had intentionally stayed behind, waiting for him. Hog knew something was up.

“Mornin’,” he said, sliding into the empty seat across from him. Hog grunted back some form of greeting and laced his fingers together.

“‘Bout time you showed up,” he rumbled. Junkrat stirred his tea, feeling his cheeks grow hot.

“Was feelin’ tired this mornin’ so I slept in. Not like I got much goin’ on t’day, anyway,” he said.

“And it’s about bloody time you two fucked. Thought either yer balls’d drop off or explode if y’waited much longer,” Hog said, his tone blasé as though he were just stating facts. As usual, there wasn’t anything that he could sneak past his bodyguard. Junkrat shrugged and lifted his mug up.

“What tipped ya off?” he wondered, starting to feel a bit more like himself and his sense of humor returning.

“One: You took another shower last night. Two: You never came back to yer room after it, either. Three: I saw th’way she looked at ya’ when she passed by at dinner,” his friend started, ticking off each clue on his thick fingers before stopping and taking two deep sniffs, “Four: You smell like ‘er,”. Junkrat tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, stuck his nose downward, and took a few deep breaths of his own to verify that he did. He shrugged and nodded his head in acknowledgment. He’d consider the aroma a badge of honor.

“Didja’ show th’lady a good time?”. Junkrat scoffed at the question.

“Well of course I did! Not a git, you know!”. Hog grumbled something along the lines of “at least someone is havin’ a go around here,” before pulling a book out of his pocket and settling into the middle of the story. Junkrat tucked into cold toast and lukewarm eggs; the price one paid for sleeping in so late.

“Where is she?” Hog wondered, causing Junkrat to pause mid-bite.

“Hm?”.

“Sym. Figgered you two might’ve gotten breakfast t’gether or somethin’. Don’t tell me you snuck outta’ ‘er room,”. Junkrat finished the bite and swallowed.

“No, er... she was th’one that actually snuck out... Sort of. She had an appointment really early. She’s gonna’ be gone fer a while... Well, not GONE. She’s still here on base, but she’s got some surgery or somethin’, an’ then she’s gonna’ be in quarantine while she heals up. Kinda’ why she had me come over last night. Wanted t’have some proper fun b’fore she’d be tied up,” he explained. Hog’s head perked up and he turned away from his book.

“Quarantine?”. Hog’s reaction triggered a sense of panic, and an unexplainable chill ran up his spine.

“Yeah,” he started, trying to remember all the details she’d given him about it. Unfortunately, at the time, his brain had been too focused on the prospect of sex, and now he was starting to feel like an idiot for not pressing her further on the subject.

“She said whatever it was that’s gettin’ done is gonna’ muck up ‘er immune system, so they’re gonna’ put ‘er there while she heals up t’keep ‘er safe,”. Hog slammed his book shut and leaned forward.

“Rat... Quarantine is where they’re puttin’ all those people doin’ th’dark matter tests!” he reminded. The experiments weren’t secrets on a need-to-know basis. The whole base had been informed, though not the details of what the trials were to include. Junkrat shrank back a little.

“Well, yeah, but... Sym’s not goin’ in on that! She’s smart, y’know? She’s just gonna’ be nearby!” he scrambled, recalling something from her note, “An’ besides! Her boss gave her th’okay! He wouldn’t say okay t’somethin’ like weird experiments! Sym’s too high-up at Vishkar! Irreplaceable, as I recall!”. He didn’t know why he felt so defensive. Perhaps it was the odd sense of creeping doubt.

“So what’s she there for?”.

“I dunno’, alright?! Maybe somethin’ t’do with ‘er arm, or gettin’ her appendix out or somethin’! Hell, maybe she’s gettin’ bigger tits! She didn’t say!” Junkrat snapped, feeling exasperated while throwing his arms in the air. Sym would have told him if she was doing something as dangerous as volunteering for dark matter experiments, wouldn’t she? _Wouldn’t she?_

“Maybe you’re right,” Hog finally said, leaning back in his seat and lacing his fingers over his belly, “She’s too smart t’do somethin’ like that,”. The bristling Junkrat began to relax at his friend’s assurance. He looked down at his tray, no longer feeling hungry from his knotted up stomach.

_Sym... You wouldn’t do somethin’ that stupid, would ya’?_

  
**.           .           .           .           .**

  
Sombra yawned, scratched her stomach, and grabbed another handful of Insanity Pepper Crisps. Junkrat had let her try some a while back, and (after growing used to the very different form of spice) she’d developed a bit of a taste for them. She’d gone so far as to order a case to take along with her to Cairo, seeing as how she knew she’d be stuck there a while.

Helix was still rebuilding from Ilios. They’d lost a large portion of their active-duty soldiers, but before they could refill empty boots, they first needed to refill the hole blown in their budget. Not only did the attack cost them people, but money as well. Talon was fortunate in that department. Max could work a budget, bring in funds, and pay off the right people to keep their facility up and running. It was downright impressive.

The scanners yielded nothing. Soldiers surrounding Helix’s base of operations performed their usual patrols, but beyond that, it was a quiet night. She did manage to overhear a bit about a soldier receiving a letter from her long lost mother. Sombra had made a little note to look further into that. It probably would yield nothing of importance, but at the very least, it was something to keep her entertained. Lord knew she needed some sort of excitement.

She’d been sent back out only a couple days after returning to Brazil with orders of monitoring them in the event that they had plans for retaliation. She wasn’t fooled. They mainly wanted her out of Moira’s hair during the human trials. With her not necessarily being the most loyal member in their employ, she was always kept at arm’s length. It wasn’t entirely a bad idea for Talon. Of course, they didn’t need to know that she had her own interests and machinations to attend to.

“I thought you said she was dead! Killed in action!” a voice crackled over her speakers.

“That doesn’t make it better. What kind of mother lets her daughter believe she died and then doesn’t speak to her in years? You know, part of me thinks this is some sort of trap or something,”. _Mother presumed dead? Well, this got a little more interesting!_

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Let’s get back inside. I heard they got the espresso machine back up and running,” the woman diverted, and the pair left her audio range. Sombra jutted her lip outward in a pout and slumped into her padded chair. She was getting awful sick of the inside of her temporary base; a derelict flat above a boarded-up shop. According to the translations, it used to be a shop for Omnic repairs. A scratching sound made her head whip around, but it was only the scrawny rat that liked to scavenge for crumbs.

“Beat it, Toasty Junior,” she hissed. Having just noticed her presence, the rat scurried away, once again hiding in the walls. A familiar vibration made her perk up, and she reached into the pocket of her vest. Someone had messaged her “fucking around” phone; a device she used specifically to talk to people she considered to be friends (not that she had very many). She tapped the text icon and saw that she had a new message from Roadhog. _Chicaron? What’s he been up to?_

Roadhog liked to gossip, and (unsurprisingly) so did she. He’d occasionally fill her in on the more mundane goings-on back at base, and he’d been kind enough to keep her informed on Junkrat’s recovery. How he managed to survive all those broken bones and internal bleeding was a mystery. Apparently, some higher power wasn’t ready to take him, and the scrappy Junker lived, much to her relief. She liked the dynamic of the bomber and his bodyguard, and she also liked the little thing that he had going on with Symmetra, too. Sombra may have had access to just about any movie or TV show imaginable, but she always found real people to be far more entertaining.

**Chicharon:**

**-Guess who finally fucked**

Sombra chuckled at the turn of events but decided to play coy.

_Hey! Congrats! It’s about damn time! Who’s the lucky person who was able to funnel your hog?_

**-Not me, you cheeky tart! Rat and Sym finally figured out how to have a good time!**

Sombra grinned, happy that the two finally hooked up, but suddenly she remembered Moira. She wondered how the pining doctor would handle the snub. She supposed Moira would just have to deal with it.

**-It’s weird though**

_What? Like, somehow weirder than Toasty hooking up with Miss 11/10?_

**-Not that. Rat said she went in for some kind of surgery or something at the infirmary. Says she’s going to be there for a while. Going to keep her in quarantine while she heals up.**

Sombra immediately sat up straight at that. No, something was up. The staff was going to be too busy dealing with the test subjects to be performing any sort of medical work that wasn’t an emergency, and they certainly wouldn’t want to keep someone in close proximity to such uncertain circumstances. Her eyes narrowed, wondering if maybe Hog had misheard.

_That doesn’t sound right. What kind of surgery? Was it an emergency-type thing?_

**-That’s what I’m thinking. Rat said she didn’t tell him what. Said it was a “personal matter”. Tell me I’m not crazy for getting a weird feeling.**

_No, you’re not. I’m going to look into this because something’s not right. Moira made sure to lock down her labs pretty tight, but I’ll see what I can dig up. At the very least, I can see if Sym is listed in the infirmary ward and what for._

She waited anxiously for Roadhog to respond, and the little dots indicating he was typing blipped along for way too long for her liking. Or maybe it was just that worry that was starting to gnaw at her insides. She tried reassuring herself that Sym’s boss would have to clear something like taking part in dark matter experimentations first and that he wouldn’t risk something so dangerous with one of his top agents. Then she recalled all the horrific skeletons in his closet, and she broke out into a cold sweat.

**-If this turns out to be as bad as I think, what do I need to do?**

What would he have to do? That was a question with no easy answers, but she wouldn’t just sit back and allow Talon to destroy Sym.

_I don’t know yet. Let me look into this and I’ll get back to you._

Hog sent her a thumbs-up, and the conversation ended. She slumped back in her chair and reached into her pocket. She exchanged her phone for her cigarettes and lighter and took a few quick puffs to calm herself. She gazed up at the cracked ceiling, where the smoke lingered in the still air. _This is what happens when you get close to people. Shame on me for not learning my lesson._

Sombra sat forward again, temporarily minimizing her surveillance windows so she could focus on her new task at hand. Talon’s medical wing was easy to poke around in (for someone with her talents), and soon enough she found the list of incoming patients at the infirmary. Just as she’d expected, there were only three patients remaining in the wing; a soldier with a mending bullet wound (an accidental discharge of a firearm), an engineer with a crushed hand (cause of injury; relocating of experimental technology gone awry), and lastly... Satya Vaswani.

Sombra wasn’t fooled, and her sense of suspicion only grew at the sight of her name. She looked at the reason for her admission to the surgical unit. According to the charts, she was scheduled to have a malignant tumor removed from her lung! _What?! No, that can’t..._ With the invention of biotic technology, such manual means of removal had become virtually obsolete, curing most forms of cancer. Sombra’s brow furrowed, and she dug into Sym’s medical file. The file showed no accounts of any other initial appointments, no conversations with oncologists, nor even any scans for said tumor. _This has the stink of a cover-up all over it._

Unfortunately, try as she might, Sombra had hit a roadblock. There was no cracking into Moira’s labs; at least, she couldn’t get very far into it with her limited amount of tech that she’d brought along. Without her full set-up back on her ship, she wasn’t going to get much farther. She did manage to find a shipment invoice of new lab rats and other rodents, but that was all just useless information. She ashed her cigarette before pulling her phone back out.

“When is that shipment coming? I thought you said tonight!” the same voice from earlier crackled back up. Sombra re-opened her surveillance window, and the two soldiers were back on patrol.

“No, no. I guess there were some weather delays. Don’t worry. We’ll finally be back up to quota on armor just in time for the new recruits to arrive,” the woman replied.

“About damn time. I can’t wait to pay those Talon bastards back,”.

“We’re going to have to find them, first,”. Sombra ran her fingers through her hair. Helix wasn’t anywhere near cracking into Talon's security, but she worried that it was only a matter of time. Everything around her was growing more and more tense, the pressure mounting. At some point, it was going to erupt.

  
**.           .           .           .           .**

  
Symmetra walked through the research lab doors, which were now marked with large signs reading “RESTRICTED AREA” and were flanked by two heavily armed guards. She showed them her ID and waited for them to check her clearance before they let her in. Once inside, she was escorted by a couple of researchers right into quarantine, where they walked past room after room of various test subjects.

“Right now everyone is in monitoring. In an hour, everyone who passes health inspection will be allowed in the communal area where they can relax with television, games, and books to rent,” she was informed. Was it reminiscent of her school years, or images of prisons that she’d often seen in movies and shows? She couldn’t quite decide. At the end of the corridor they came to a stop at what was to be her room; a spartan dormitory with a hospital-style bed, side table, desk, and dresser for her small amount of personal belongings, though the window at the end of the hall caught her eye. Through it, she could spot many cages lined against a wall filled with rats, mice, and rabbits.

“They’re still experimenting on animals?” she asked, and her escort explained that they were still the same group of test subjects from her first trip through. They’d simply moved them closer to the observation units to keep everything easily accessible. Sym followed the numbers, locating Seventeen. The rabbit was busy nosing a little ball around, which dispensed a few treats.

“We need to start your health assessment and administration,” the duo informed her, bringing her attention back where it belonged. She entered her room, sat her suitcase down, and sat on the freshly-made bed. After a quick check of her vitals, she was given a hospital gown to switch into and was told they’d return to give her an IV of the prepared nanobiotics. She was nearing the point of no return. In a few minutes, her body would change forever. Her hands began to tremble.

She steeled her nerves, reminding herself that she knew what she was signing up for, and how much better her life would be for it. She was there to make a difference, and if things went as she hoped, she could finally and more effectively make the better world that she’d always longed for. After pulling the gown over her head, she began to unpack. Her clothes went into her dresser. Her books went on top of her desk. Off to the side was a small washroom with a toilet and sink, where she stored her toiletries. She assumed much like the rest of Talon headquarters, the showers would be communal to allow for physical assistance. In a small hidden pocket of her suitcase, she plucked the box with her necklace, which she sat atop the side table.

The researchers came back, getting her all set up with an IV drip. The label on the bag read that it contained a mild anxiety medication which she assumed was to help reduce stress. Along with it, they added a syringe of familiar yellow-glowing nanobiotics; the ones programmed to alter her very genetic makeup and transform her into a new step in human evolution. The plunger was pushed, and the gold serum traveled down the tube and into her body. There. It was done, and there’d be no going back. _If this was a mistake, then I will have to live with it._

She didn’t feel anything at first. In fact, she felt calm. Serene, even. She supposed that was due to the anxiety treatment. With the IV bag attached to a rolling rack, she was able to leave her room and join the other patients. She thought perhaps she’d find them all talkative or interested with her being a new face in the crowd, but none of them seemed to pay her any mind, let alone anyone else around them. A large portion didn’t even speak English, and while most gathered around televisions or tables filled with crafting projects and art supplies it was an altogether quiet event.

No one looked very different, from a physical standpoint, but she supposed not everyone was going through a process like hers. Perhaps they were there to see what diseases could be cured or what conditions could be reversed. She found a table with some needlework supplies and poked around to see if anything caught her interest. Nothing did. She tried watching television, but the group was drawn to some sort of soap opera, which she had no interest in. Instead, she made herself a cup of tea at a small refreshment table, and sat alone, missing the human contact she’d grown used to, and the smile of one particular face.

That night, she began to feel the first signs of physical change, and after alerting the staff to her discomfort, they administered some sort of pain killer and sleep aid. The next morning, she found slightly raised lumps just under the skin of her arms and along her spine. Her legs remained unmarked, but to her dismay, there was one in the center of her forehead, as though her body really was trying to create a “third eye”. The researchers crowded her room for inspection and wheeled her to an imaging and monitoring center. After recording the physical findings, they allowed her back out into the dormitories and corridors, though all she wanted to do was watch the animals beyond the window.

Seventeen, as always, milled about its cage in typical rabbit fashion but stopped as soon as it noticed her. Its nose twitched, and its forehead began to pulse with interest. She placed her palm against the glass, as though in solidarity, but her own reflection made her gasp in shock, for the nodes on her arm and palm pulsed in tandem, and the spot on her forehead illuminated!

The researchers really had a field day with her after that. Soon Symmetra found herself going in for test after test, rarely getting a moment to herself, save for sleeping and eating. She barely even had a moment to comprehend the sudden changes in her body, though even when she tried, the medications they gave her only seemed to dull her sense of worry, and she began to wonder if maybe they were lying about the dosage they gave her of the anxiety medication.

On the fourth day, before she even had breakfast, they informed her that they were going to perform a very special kind of neurological exam and that they’d need to sedate her. She could hear herself agree to it without even fully realizing what she’d consented to. She got back in bed, and a breathing mask was slipped over her mouth and nose. Her brain began to feel sluggish. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she couldn’t even make sense of anything beyond the ceiling tiles. They brought her into a dark room that she hadn’t been to before. Some sort of strange helmet connected to a bunch of cords hung from the ceiling, and she was positioned right underneath it.

“Doctor O’Deorain will be with you shortly,” some man told her, and her exhausted brain worked his words through her muddled thoughts. _Moira? ...why... her? No... that can’t be right..._

A door just out of her line of sight opened. The sharp clack of heels echoed through the room, drawing closer and closer until someone stood at the side of her bed. A familiar face loomed over her, gazing down. The helmet was brought lower and lower, and suddenly she could hear breathing in her ear.

“Forgive me for what I’m about to do,”. Symmetra’s eyes finally lost the fight to stay open.

“It didn’t have to be like this,”.

**Author's Note:**

> As more and more lore surfaced, a new story began to form, and darn it! I couldn't resist turning the tables!


End file.
